Hearts and Minds
by Zergface
Summary: It's not luck that will take us further. By way of deception, thou shalt do war. ((/Proudly the only Earth vs. Gamindustri series out there.\))
1. Abrupt Welcome

_**Capture their minds and their hearts and souls will follow.**_

 _ **Author Unknown**_

* * *

 **Sometime in late spring, Gamindustri time.**

 **Late February, Earth time.**

It was cold up on the rooftops of Planeptune, but Nathan didn't care. He had faced far worse temperatures than this back home.

The stars of the late night were blocked out by the many bright lights of the lively city, the streets still bustling with energy despite nearing midnight. Skyscrapers tickled the clouds far in the distance, reminding him of the one time he visited Times Square the year before. Nathan wore an old black hoodie, one local to Planeptune, and a common pair of blue jeans to help him blend in with the locals. It surprised him that the culture of Gamindustri would be so similar to western culture, and that one discovery helped him tremendously to understand the people here.

The middle-aged teenager sat with one of his legs dangling over the edge of the building. It used to scare him to do something like this, but he wasn't afraid anymore. The cars below whisked by, the lights flickering across the maze of roads and sidewalks. You couldn't tell that there was a war going on, and _they_ were the ones fighting it. You couldn't tell that their brothers and sisters and fathers and sons were throwing bombs, firing rockets and killing his people. You couldn't tell that in a land far away cities just like this were reduced to nothing but a shell of their former selves.

There was never much Nathan could do to begin with, but he still had a mission.

After a vicious gust of wind nearly caused him to lose his balance, Nathan slid off the edge and onto the ground next to him. He laid with his back against the low wall and pulled his black beanie over his ears. It really was getting chilly, even if he didn't want to admit it.

From his left he pulled out a tiny handheld radio, one used by the military back home. He had it hooked up to a larger antenna to help him project his broadcast across the whole city like he had for the past few days. Nathan had already reviewed the news from back home twice, and was ready to tell this whole world the truth that no one knew.

He held the radio up to his open mouth for a moment, gathering his courage to speak, but before he could a shadow leaped down on him from above, landing a short distance in front of him. He kept his hand off the button to speak and set the radio back on the ground beside him gently. Nathan brought his right hand over to a holster on his thigh, but he just kept his hand right above the grip of the pistol.

The person spoke loudly and clearly, her voice projecting above the whistling of the wind and the hum of the city noise.

"Your time is up, villain!" She stuck a finger out to Nathan, pointing right between his eyes.

Nathan tilted his head, mocking confusion. "Me? A villain?" He brought a finger to point at himself.

"What do you mean, 'Me? A villain'!? Of course I'm talking about you. I have come to deliver justice!" She held up her fists defensively, not taking her eyes off her foe. "Your reign of terror shall come to an end!"

"Alright," Nathan muttered, using the wall to help him to his feet. He threw his arms out, as if he were shrugging. "What I'm doing isn't wrong in the slightest, c'mon! You can't just call me evil and all…"

She frowned. "This Radio Free America of yours is far too harmful to stay on the air. It's illegal and just plain lies! You broadcasted your lies for too long, announcer. Just give it up and come quietly!"

Nathan smiled at this. He didn't really know how well his message was being received by the people of Gamindustri, and since this crazy justice-freak is all over him, he can assume that he's making a pretty strong impact.

"I speak nothing but the truth, lady."

The girl snapped. "You don't fool me for a second. And it's Nisa, the Heroine of Justice to you, villain! Just come quietly and you won't have to get hurt."

"Justice?" Nathan paused. "Do you even know what justice you're fighting for?"

"Of course I do! The law of the land, the freedom of the people-"

"Freedom?" The boy scoffed. "When I look around myself I see nothing but tyranny. Tyranny of your Goddesses."

Nisa crossed her arms, personally offended at his statement. "How dare you say such a thing?" She unfurled her arms, angered and ready to pounce. "I'll have you know that my friends- no- our CPUs are nothing but just! Your lies need to end, now!"

Nathan held his arms up defensively. He had to act, and fast. Fighting was out of the question, he knew how powerful the people from this world were. His weapon was his words.

"I can tell that your justice is corrupt, Nisa!" He blurted, calling out to his enemy over a gust of wind. "You don't know the whole story!"

"Stop! Just stop!" She shook her head. "You're in the wrong here, announcer!"

"If you've been listening to my broadcast, you've known that your people don't keep prisoners!"

Nisa glared at her enemy straight in the eye, clenching her fists out of emotion rather than defense. "You just insult my people with your worthless lies, I know the truth! I know what true justice is! If Planeptune has to go to war, I know that it's nothing but good!"

"And that's just it." Nathan said calmly. "Your casus belli is anything but."

* * *

 _ **The first casualty of war is truth.**_

 _ **-Rudyard Kipling**_

* * *

 **Mid Spring, Gamindustri time.**

 **Mid January, Earth time.**

"I'm never going to go back." The Deity of Sin sighed without the slightest hint of regret.

Warechu just looked right on ahead, over the hilltops and towards the setting sun. He spoke rather softly for a mouse of his stature, but Arfoire heard it nonetheless. "Well, what do you mean by that, chu?"

Arfoire paused, not quite sure how to respond. She reclined in her aging rocking chair on the porch of her old farmhouse, gently breathing in the cool air of early spring. The Goddess tilted her head back, her aged purple witch's hat still offering her eyes protection from the setting sun. She wore a dirty pair of overalls on top of a newly purchased red-plaid shirt. Warechu, that dumb rat, still stuck with her after all these years. He stood at the decrepit porch railing, letting his ears flutter around when a gust of wind blew by.

The sun still shed some light over the horizon, casting long shadows across Arfoire's eggplant farm in the shape of the young stalks. It was getting a little cold now that the day was coming to an end, but the Deity of Sin didn't mind. The golden glow of the sunset draped a blanket of warmth over her and the swaying grass surrounding the farmhouse, making her feel content at last. After several years of living a peaceful yet isolated life she finally felt proud. This stupid patch of dirt and grass she cultivated turned out to become a sustainable career for the two past ASIC members, although the taste of eggplant does get rather sickening after a while.

Arfoire took in a deep breath as she closed her eyes, at last in peace. "I'm happy with the way things turned out." She opened her eyes, looking directly at her partner. "I hate to admit it, but it might've been good that those CPUs defeated us here."

Warechu scoffed. "You really think so? That's pitiful of you, ya old hag."

"Oh please," Arfoire waved him off. "I've changed, Warechu, don't call me that anymore. I think I'm finally happy with myself." She said as a matter-of-fact.

"Sure… just yesterday you wanted to snag one of those fancy schmancy dresses at the Planeptune Mall for yourself! You don't fool me for a second, chuu."

"Wha!?" One of Arfoire's eyebrows shot up, appalled at the former criminal's accusation. "I'm a changed woman, you rat. Don't you dare say something as preposterous as that!"

Warechu snickered, stepping back from the Goddess with a paw over his mouth. "Hehehe… what a hypocrite you-"

"GET OVER HERE!" Arfoire yelled, jerking up from her seat and bounding towards the red-eyed creature. Her cheeks were red with blind rage. If there's one thing that she kept over the years, it would be her temper.

"Whaa!" Warechu jumped up in surprise and mantled the railing at breakneck speeds, racing towards the eggplant crop. Thinking on his toes, he thought that he could lose her in the farm.

He sprinted across the lawn, the straw-roofed house becoming a distant memory as dust and dirt got kicked up by the duo's fast moving feet as a literal game of cat and mouse emerged.

"Don't think you can hide from me you damn rat! I'll catch you, and when I do, your tiny mouse-brain is gonna get shoved into the dirt!" Arfoire threatened, darting through the thick maze of eggplants at her target.

Once he got a good lead on his past leader, Warechu ducked down into the plants and stood still. His breath ran ragged, but he did his best to be as quiet as possible. What is that woman doing? She's going to destroy the harvest! The mouse thought to himself as he crept onto his knees. He dug his paws into the fertile soil, blending into the darkly tinted ground as dusk inched it's way around the corner. Hehehe, she'll never find me like this! Warechu crawled away from the desperate thrashing of an adrenaline fueled Deity, weaseling through the maze of plants. He was careful to tuck his tail in close, as the moving protrusion could give him away.

The sounds of the hectic Goddess faded into twilight as Warechu kept crawling away towards nothing in particular. He wasn't quite sure when he should reappear, but based on past experience he assumed that he should wait a little while longer before showing his face. Serious injury was not uncommon around his roommate, especially when she was as enraged as she was now. Why was so upset? Who knows. She normally didn't get so temperamental so suddenly, but Warechu didn't question it. He just kept crawling until something very particular made him stop right in his tracks.

There was a person.

At least, at this distance it looked like a person. It's hard to tell from far away as his camouflage blended in rather neatly with the dirt and grass. That combined with the hazy lighting from dusk made the whole picture harder to see in general. The person was laying face-first, the head covered with a jet black beanie that seemed to be the same color as the person's hair. A brown and green camouflaged backpack stuck up and out of the grass, and beside it, on the person's back, was a black rifle.

Shocked for a moment, the mouse was still. He didn't move a muscle for fear that the person was awake and would shoot him. That was always a pain in his past line of work.

After a whole ten seconds of tension, the mouse decided that he should investigate.

He crawled out of the row of plants and into the open before returning to his feet, his back aching from the strain of crawling. After stretching his back out thoroughly he stepped closer to the person. By the shape of the body it looked to be a young male, a thought of confusion running through the rat's head. . Men normally weren't in Planeptune's armed forces, and even then this camouflage was nothing like the ones seen anywhere in Gamindustri, contrasting dramatically from the standard black of Planeptune and Lastation. Could this guy be a part of some sort of special forces? Upon further inspection of the body, Warechu decided that the answer was a solid 'no'. Men were considered to be too inadequate to become anywhere more than a common grunt in all militaries, and the injustice made Warechu tingle in disdain. He never liked how society was so biased against males like him.

The former criminal bent over and stole a glance at the guy's shoulder. On it, he saw a patch of a flag he had never seen before, and below it was another patch that he couldn't hope to recognize. He was never good with all that military mumbo-jumbo, so this was all new ground for him. He did know, however, that his country's military was headed off to some far off land, but the farm-mouse was not informed well enough as to know the specifics. It would make sense that the army should be all over the country, but not like this. This guy was far too young to be a professional soldier of any sort; he looked like a teenager!

After minutes of poking and prodding, Warechu had enough. Nothing was happening, and it didn't seem like this guy was waking up anytime soon. He went over his options for a moment, but none of them were good. He settled on calling for help on the issue, despite the fact that his only help being the old woman who doesn't seem to be in a good mood.

He swallowed his pride and his fear before arching his neck back and into the sky. He clasped his paws around his mouth and took in a deep breath.

"HEEEEEY! OLD WITCH! COME HERE, I NEED HELP!" He shouted as loudly as his little lungs would allow, high into the sky. Not even a second passed before he heard the awful din of a raging Goddess. It was headed right towards him!

She emerged from between the stalks like a lumbering giant, towering high over the mouse's meager body. "You! You damn rat… I don't know if I want to listen to you or to snap your neck." She snarled, stepping into the open with caution. "You infuriate me sometimes. One of those times being now!"

"Take it easy now you goth-faced maniac! There's something big here, chuu! Check it!"

Warechu quickly hobbled back and away from the body as the Deity of Sin, still wearing her hat, trampled her way forward. It was getting hard to see as darkness was settling in fast. She could make out the person, but none of the details. After several moments she set her arms on her hips. Frustrated, she sighed.

"Who is this? What is he doing here? Shouldn't he know this is private property? Hmph." She crossed her arms over her chest, clearly not amused by the sudden appearance in her territory. "This kid better not be trying to steal our plants."

Warechu shrugged, getting tired. "That's real doubtful, he looks pretty official."

Nothing was said for some time as they both pondered their options. As the night drew closer and closer, it became obvious to them that things weren't were going to be very quiet from here on out. In the end, they decided it would be best to bring him home. Every day was another challenge just to get by, and this night would become one that they would never forget.

* * *

The body of the boy laid with his back on the cushions of an old couch, his backpack sitting upright on the floor beneath it. The rifle he had on him was propped up beside the backpack, it's glimmering black metal reflecting the light of a gas-powered lamp hanging from the ceiling's exposed rafters.

The house was just made of three rooms. A bathroom, a bedroom and a living room which also had a kitchen in the corner. The house was not kept in the best condition, as crumbs dotted the table in front of the couch and the kitchen sink was stacked with a few dirt plates. A simple television was one of the only sources of news the two past criminals had, and that was only considering the times when it worked. The residents could not afford more than what they had, and the scruffy red rug under their feet cost them the revenue of a four months. They managed to get by, however, and the house represented that status. But they were content by themselves, living a simple life on their own.

Warechu crept up to the boy's chest armor, analyzing its complex series of straps and pouches. On his upper-left side of his chest he wore a patch that said a name in big, bold letters. It read, "KIOWA".

"So," The mouse mumbled. "This guy's name is Kiowa, huh. What a strange name."

Arfoire leaned closer, reading the tag. "Agreed. It's rather dull."

Warechu smirked, crossing his arms. "Like your name is any better-"

"Be quiet you rodent!" Arfoire snapped. She relaxed her hands upon her waist as the gaslamp continued to flicker it's light across the room, shaken by the Goddess's sudden movement. She sighed. "What do we do now?"

"I donno. You were the one with the bright idea to bring him inside, chuu."

"Well, excuse me. At least I had an idea."

"Huh? Listen here you wrinkly ol' woman-"

Arfoire violently shushed the mouse before stepping into the kitchen area. Warechu rolled his eyes before sitting down at a small table nearby. He was getting drowsy, and his sleeping area was occupied by a guest. He grumbled to himself as Arfoire pulled two cans and a can opener out of a shelf. Tonight's dinner was fish saturated with dogoo jelly- an ancient Leanbox delicacy.

Satisfied by her actions, Warechu reclined in his chair. "Ah, you're breaking out the good stuff today! What's the occasion?"

Arfoire puffed, annoyed. "We have a guest. Don't you think we should celebrate before he wakes up? Besides, I'm getting tired of eggplant." As Arfoire brought the cans over to the table, she muttered to herself. "Eggplant breakfast… Eggplant lunch… Eggplant dinner…"

With a clang, the cans were set down at the table, and they each took turns opening their cans like a civilized family. But right before either of them could dig into their expensive meals, a pronounced knock on the door rang out. Four hard knocks startled the duo, and Warechu grumbled as he pulled himself out of his seat. However, Arfoire held her hand up, pushing her seat back.

"I'll get it." She left her seat and started for the door. "Who would be asking for us at this hour?" She groaned. Once at the door, she tugged back on the doorknob to reveal a girl standing in the darkness that Arfoire thought she would never see again.

"IF?" Arfoire said, taken aback by the sight of the girl. She had assumed that she would never set foot near eggplants again after what she put her through, but it seems as though times must have changed her.

"That's me." IF cleared her throat, brushing off her heavy blue coat. "Or rather, it's Commander IF to you." The guild member looked Arfoire in the eyes before recognizing the resident. "O-Oh! You're Arfoire!"

Arfoire felt insulted. "Of course I am! Who else would it be?"

"Uhh…" IF stood in the doorway, a flustered. "A farmer? I didn't actually think you stayed here since the last time I was here…"

"I'm a woman of my word. Now, are we going to be civilized and enter my house or are you just going to stand there like an idiot?"

"Ah!" IF snapped to her senses, jolting upright. "I don't think that will be necessary as of now, I just came to ask a few questions."

"I have a few questions of my own, you know. If the past is behind us, I'd love to catch up. You say you're a commander now? That's military, not guild. Now…" Arfoire squinted her eyes, scrutinizing IF's body with her eyes. "You weren't conscripted… were you?"

The girl in question as about to respond, but held herself back. She had a reputation to uphold, and since Arfoire is nothing more than a mere citizen now, there's nothing more that should be said. IF just needed to ask a few questions and be done with it. She took in a deep breath of the cool night air before speaking.

"Alright, listen." IF stared Arfoire in the eyes. "We're on high alert right now. We believe that enemy agents have infiltrated into this area during the day. Have you seen anything or anyone suspicious lately? This is a matter of national security."

Arfoire opened her mouth, but didn't know whether to speak or not. She looked back over her shoulder, over to Warechu. He had covered their guest with a thin blanket, making it seem as though nothing was out of the ordinary. It seemed as though the mouse didn't want to reveal their guest just yet, and Arfoire agreed. It would be much better to question the person themselves rather than let the government handle him. One of the things that she did know about the outside world was that Neptune, or more commonly seen as Purple Heart now, was not the nicest person to have around.

Arfoire tugged at her shirt collar, sweating like a maniac. "Uhh… Nope! We've seen nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing at all. Right, Warechu?" Warechu stepped next to Arfoire in the doorway with his hands on his hips.

"We got nothin here, missy. Unless you got Compa with you," He leaned forward and out of the doorway, jerking his head left and right as if his love interest were nearby. "You outta scram, ya chump. We want nothing more to do with the whole lot of you people." He nodded.

"Err… yeah." Arfoire also nodded, looking suspicious. "Nothing to see here."

"O-kay?" IF said, raising an eyebrow. "If not me, then someone else will check up on on you some other time. I'll be seeing you around." She nodded, stepping back carefully, still facing the farmers. She knew something was up, but she didn't know what. Knowing them, they had probably stolen something big and stupid. But it's been awhile since they'd made headlines, so she gave them the benefit of the doubt.

IF stepped off the porch and into the night. Little light bugs had started to emerge over the eggplant crop, illuminating the farm like twinkling stars. On Earth they were called fireflies, and she had only seen them once, when she went down to inspect her soldiers in the South Carolina region. She shuddered at the sight of the eggplants, but kept walking towards her trusty motorcycle. She still hadn't gotten over her phobia of eggplants, even after so much time has passed. A part of her wanted to smash their heads into the dirt for what they did to her, but that would be immature. The Wind Walker of Gamindustri had to keep her own temper in check, lest she become someone like those criminals on the farm.

IF told herself that she was better than them. She was a soldier now.

She climbed onto the motorcycle, it's engines revving up in the silence of the night. The headlight lit up the dirt road in front of her, and as she started to drive she kept her thoughts to herself. The farm became a distant memory to her, and she wanted to keep it that way.

* * *

 _ **There are but two powers in the world, the sword and the mind. In the long run the sword is always beaten by the mind.**_

 _ **Napoleon Bonaparte**_

* * *

 **Geez. It's almost been a year since this project begain, and it's weird to look back.**

 **After much evolution, I've gone back and eased the reading of _Fin De Sicle_ , this series's prologue. I still reccomend you read it, but it's not needed. **

**I also advise you to read while in bed and on a mobile device, or just when you are most susceptible to digesting a story.**

 **Ahead of you waits some of the most authentic warfare in this archive. Unfortunately, between you and that experience is my newbie early writing- that means bits of cliches and gnarly ANs early on- the latter to be deleted promptly.**

 **But it's still _Hearts And Minds._**

 **I sincerely hope you enjoy.**


	2. Residents

It's dark.

I'm lying on my side. The air is still, eerily silent to the point where I want to tear my hair out. The faint taste of mint lingers on the tip of my tongue, but I don't know why. When I breath I smell cheap vegetables, as if I were locked in the decrepit ruins of a farmers market. That makes me uncomfortable.

I'm lying on my back, and I feel a lot lighter than I should be. Not physically, no, but mentally. It's like my whole mind has been cleared and it's like a persistent, throbbing headache just went away. My mind is no longer cloudy, and it doesn't hurt to think anymore.

What's there to think about?

I scour my mind, face scrunching up in frustration. I can't quite remember. I remember everything, but it's as if there's gaps in my memory. When did I get here? Who was my best friend? What did I have for breakfast yesterday? I know that I need to do something, that I have a mission.

I open my eyes, immediately scanning the room.

I'm on a grey couch, it's fabric tearing in some places, and in other parts it's covered in stains. There isn't a ceiling, just exposed wooden beams holding up… a straw roof?

On my left there's a little coffee table, and past that there's a broken down television. The windows are old, staining yellow.

To the right of the TV, the corner is made into a kitchen with a sink, stove and cabinets. There are a few windows scattered around on the walls, and if I look outside there's nothing but an endless darkness. Nighttime, obviously.

I slide my legs over the edge of the couch, letting my boots tap the cheap carpet below me. Huh. Whose house is this?

I hoist myself to my feet, stretching my arms out wide with a deep breath. My joints are so stiff, it's like I've been cooped up here for days!

My bag and my rifle are both laying neatly against the couch, taken off me by some unknown person. I pick up my bag and slip it down over my shoulders, the added weight feeling both familiar and welcome. I clutch my rifle with both hands and bring it up to my chest.

But as soon as I do, I spot the sleeping figure of a creature snoring in the corner, next to the couch.

I'm not all that shocked to see it. In all honesty, I'm curious. Who is this little fellow? Is this thing the one who owns this house?

It kinda looks like a mouse. It's chest moves up and down in a constant pattern as it breathes. Big round ears lie atop its head, and there's a heart-shaped thing on the tip of it's tail. It could be a pet, but I don't want to rule out the possibility of it being sentient, as unlikely as it is. This is a whole other world, after all. Anything is possible.

The hair under my beanie gets itchy, so I pull it off and swiftly stuff it into a backpack pocket haphazardly. I lean closer to the thing, my curiosity taking over.

Huh, it has fur! Dark fur makes up a very thin layer on it's body. It also has an unnatural red color draped over it's feet! I'm no scientist, but I'm sure that this makes for an amazing scientific discovery on my part. One more animal discovered. I give myself a mental pat on the back.

That reminds me, I need to let the good folks back home know that I arrived safely here. I've got this handheld military radio that's got a ton of power, they told me that it's supposed to be able to connect with the drones that they send here. I hope it works.

But before I can make another move, the silence is shattered.

"You just gonna perv on a poor little mouse, chuu?"

What? Did that thing just speak?

* * *

Nathan steps back, eyes wide.

Warechu sighs, opening both his eyes.

"Hey, quit starin'! You ever see a mouse as amazing as this one before?"

Nathan holds up both his hands. "No, no I haven't. You're the first mouse I've seen, actually."

"Consider yourself lucky then. I'm the best one you'll ever see, chuu."

"Uhh… I have no doubt." Nathan says questionably, analyzing the creature.

Arfoire sneaks up from behind the soldier menacingly. She stands behind him for only a moment, a smirk on her face. "Hmm. You better have a good reason be be here, kid."

"Wha!" The human spins around suddenly, alarmed at the sight of the Deity of Sin. He breathes heavily as the room remains silent, his gasping defining the atmosphere.

Warechu snickers at his predicament, and Arfoire just stands there rather smugly. It's been a long time since she's acted evil, and she's content knowing that she's still got some devilishness up her sleeve.

"Well? What do you think you're doing on our private property?" She stands there impatiently as Nathan stammers, scrambling for an answer. "Spit it out!"

The visitor struggles to think. "I-I-"

Arfoire smiles knowingly. "Nevermind." She waves off her own question. "We have all the time in the world." She turns to Warechu. "Hey rat, get our guest one of our finest crops. "

"Get it yourself ya old hag!" Warechu snarks.

"Don't make me come over there…"

"Sheesh," Warechu complies begrudgingly, edging closer to the kitchen. "Could've just said please."

"That's better." Arfoire gestures back to the couch with a hand. "You should take a seat."

Nathan grimaces, looking back at the filthy cushions. He knows he won't be going anywhere anytime soon. It's common knowledge that bullets aren't effective against the people of Gamindustri, so fighting his way out is not an option. He sighs, sitting back on the couch without daring to take his eyes off of the woman.

Arfoire steps out of sight for a moment as Warechu clambers onto the kitchen counter. Arfoire returns with a decaying folding chair, sitting herself down to Nathan's left. The resident mouse pulls out a plump eggplant from the cabinets, somehow still looking ripe and flavorful. He jumps down with a plate in one hand and the eggplant in the other, and sets the food down aggressively on the low table. He crosses his arms.

"Happy?" Warechu grumbles. "Great hospitality…" He murmurs to himself.

"I'm ecstatic." Arfoire states blankly. She turns her attention to the visitor, matching his eyes with her own. Nathan grips his knees tightly, veins visible on his forearms but not his hands due to his sweat-soaked gloves. His breathing is tight and every motion with his eyes is deliberate. With noteworthy posture, he speaks.

"So!" Nathan proclaims, attempting to ease the tension in the air. "My name is Nathan. I'm a big fan of video games, hot chocolate and lazy weekends. How about you?" He smiles halfheartedly, still looking at Arfoire.

"Ah, the introduction. I'm Arfoire. That rat over there is called Warechu. I despise him and he despises me."

"Good friends, I assume." Nathan nods.

"No no!" Warechu catches Nathan's grave mistake, glaring at his roommate with a glint of hostility. "We just go waaaaay back, that's all."

Arfoire clears her throat, and the scene resets. The sound of insects in the night snakes into the house as the room quiets.

"You're a soldier, and not one of ours." The Deity of Sin declared. Nathan freezes all motions, staring at the accuser. "Don't lie to me."

"Don't worry about the cops," Warechu adds reassuringly. "You're safe with us."

Nathan holds up his hands. That was rather anticlimactic.

"You caught me. Probably wasn't hard, huh." He tugs on the tips of his uniform. After a moment of thinking, he continues. "As you can probably tell, I'm not on your side either."

He knows he can't trust these people, and it's not hard to tell that by the expression he paints on his face. But trust can be earned, and Nathan knows that. It's just hard to trust people from Gamindustri after everything he's been through.

"Of course." Arfoire confirms. She scratches her cheek, not taking her eyes off the visitor. "You might be able to tell a thing or two about us, too. For instance, we're not the most well off. Secondly, we're not all that caught up in the current events department. Since most of what Neptune does is rather dodgy, do you mind filling us up on what's happening out there?"

"Any dirt on the feds?" Warechu leans in enthusiastically. "C'mon, I bet you see tons of action. What's it like to slice apart hordes of NPCs? You got any cool moves? I know that Purple Heart's got a nasty Cross Combination."

Nathan deadpans, visibly confused. He runs a hand through his hair, and quickly thinks about the subject. There's not a lot he should tell. Just saying something small would require him to talk about the story behind it, and that could be seen as alien to them. Nd by alien, he could ask them about those cool moves of theirs. That could be very valuable information to relay back home.

"Dirt on the feds?" Nathan sighs. "They're not good people, that's one. I mean, not all of them. I only met one good person from here- no, two, and even then they had their quirks. And we use guns, not swords or anything like that." He looks down at the rug, lost in thought. Several seconds pass, and the mouse taps his knee impatiently.

"Hey, snap out of it!" Warechu snaps with his paw somehow, startling him Nathan making him very confused. "You were sayin?"

"Yeah… not good people. I'm leaving it at that. I can tell you more later, sure. But I've got a bunch of questions of my own that need answering. For one-"

"Hey buddy, you're in our home. You answer our questions, then maybe we'll consider yours." Arfoire asserted. " _For one,_ what are you doing here? What's your mission, to put it simply."

The soldier rose to his feet, not afraid anymore.

For the duration of the conversation, Nathan had been paying very close attention to the two residents. He had an innate knack for psychology. By studying their body language, word choice and tones of voice, he was able to put together a good psychological profile for both Arfoire and Warechu. As such, he figured that by being assertive he wouldn't be reprimanded. At least, that was his initial reading. They appear to look up to him for some reason, whether it be intrigue or a connection to themselves. The first hint to this was when Warechu thought about his past with Arfoire, saying how they went way back. His fixated expression was not a hostile expression as people would think at first, but longing. But he didn't know why. Nathan didn't have all the details, and thus was not able to fully understand why.

But the longing was there, and the teen took it as a connection with him and a longing for the past. And by being so keen on wanting dirt on the government, he believed that they used to also be in opposition to authority. The classic psychological profile of criminals and rebellious people included the fact that they respected assertiveness, and in order to make the best possible first impression, Nathan had to stop being timid.

That lengthy thought process happened in a matter of seconds within Nathan's mind.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you the specifics." The soldier insisted. _At least, not right now._ He carefully stepped past Arfoire, squeezing between her chair and the table. The plump eggplant sat alone on the table, untouched and unnoticed.

"But!" He turned around in front of the television abruptly, his gear nearly slapping the machine. "I can tell you this. I've come to put an end to this…" He searched for a word, averting his gaze for just a moment. "...This meaningless conflict."

The mouse fumbled with his tail, crossing his legs on the chair, unamused. "Yeah, you and what army?"

"I agree with the damn rat for once." Arfoire rolled her eyes, amused by the boy's foolish confidence. There was a time when she once felt the same way, but those ambitions led her to where she is now. "Unless you've got a better plan than the one we had, you might as well give up already. Those CPUs are tougher than you'd think."

"You'd be right." Nathan agreed. "But you're not accounting for the people. I'll tell you one thing- I've been taught the ways of war. No special moves or anything, no. But the war on the _mind_. It's an underrated form of combat, but it's the most effective one out there."

Arfoire perked up in her seat, suddenly interested. "How did I not think of that before… By draining the shares, you can take them down- easy."

"Shares?" Nathan asked. "What are those?"

"Basically they're the embodiment of the people's love for their Goddess. The more shares, the more powerful the Goddess. Come to think of it, Planeptune's propaganda network has been busy as of late. Hey! Rat, wake up!" Arfoire shouted at her partner. "Last time we went to town, you saw all those damn posters everywhere, right?"

"Eh?! Oh, yeah." Warechu was dozing off when Arfoire caught his attention. "Billboards, too. All about the progress we were making in the war. No specifics, either. I could tell everyone was eating it all up, though. Disgusting. Why don't people think for themselves anymore?"

"Alright then. It's settled." Arfoire nodded confidently. "We gotta bring down their propaganda network."

"What, you're on my side now?" Nathan scoffed playfully, placing his hands on his hips. Maybe it would be best if he trusted them. A little, of course, but not too much. Too much trust is definitely bad. But he had to show some trust to earn some.

"Sure. I've got a bone to pick with the whole lot of those CPUs. Me and this mouse are more talented than you might think. But you've got to keep us in the loop!" Arfoire insisted.

"I'll see to that. And about your one plan there, bringing down their network… There's a lot more to it than that. I- no, we need to know more about the people here. Their culture, their way of life. You guys don't appear to be very popular, so I doubt you know any trends around here." Nathan's adrenaline started pumping as his confidence rose steadily. A plan was forming!

"Why the hell would we need to know what's popular, chuu?" The mouse said, skeptic.

"Psychological warfare requires a deep understanding of just about everything. It's more cultural manipulation than just messing with propaganda."

Arfoire was confused. "Wait, we're talking psycho- what?"

Nathan smiled. There was a lot for them to learn, and this was only the first night! He was happy that he found some people that sympathised with his cause, even if it was just because they disliked their government.

"We have all night to discuss." He nodded, eyelids drooping a little. The night had made it's impact on his mind, making him almost as drowsy as that Warechu mouse.

There was still much to be done.

First of all, Nathan had to inform his own military than he was safe. Second, he needed to blend in with the locals and earn their trust. Doing so would make manipulating them easier, and in the end that's just what he needed- everyone to turn against the government. When popular support dies, a war is over. That's how they lost in Vietnam, after all. If it worked then, it would definitely work here. The thing is, this place doesn't seem so free as his home country, so spreading dissent would not be easy. This will require irregular warfare, an insurrection. He wasn't trained in that. In fact, he only had three weeks of training!

Nathan was drafted due to a lack of manpower alongside many other teens his age. Most of them were orphaned because of the heavy casualties that the invaders inflicted on humanity. He didn't know exactly how well the rest of Earth was doing at that time, but he could assume they weren't any better off.

Things were getting desperate back home.

Time was a luxury Nathan couldn't afford.

* * *

The next morning came along, and the three new ragtag rebels napped softly as the newborn light of day streamed peacefully through the windows.

Everyone was exhausted. They had exchanged ideas throughout the night, and the Planeptune locals were intrigued by the people of Earth. On Earth, there was Democracy, a dream that caught Arfoire by the tips of her metaphorical wings. She had always wondered what a world without CPUs would be like. She always imagined it to be the way Nathan described it as: a government by the people, for the people. With a sprinkle of voter fraud here and there. Nothing was ever perfect, and the Deity of Sin was fine with that. At least she knew the truth.

Nathan, on the other hand, was thrilled to hear about the unique environment of Gamindustri. Here, anything was possible. People had a chance to wander the world and fight monsters, climb the tallest mountains and set whole new records without real limitation. Nothing was really holding you back- at least in the past. After hearing about how free the people of Planeptune, Lastation, Lowee and Leanbox used to be, Nathan developed a sort of sympathy for the locals. He wanted to help them be free again.

And at the end of that night, the soldier crept onto the front porch and pulled out his radio. Beneath the light of an otherworldly moon and and the chirping of alien insects, he established contact with command. They were delighted to hear from Nathan, who relayed all sorts of information back home. The discovery of different sentient races other than the 'Gamindustri Human' was a major discovery for the people of Earth. And later, when the necessities were all said and done, Nathan disconnected.

He was alone again.

Alone, he came back inside. The occupants were asleep when he stepped back inside the house. He glanced at the glistening eggplant on the table, feeling a little hungry. But he didn't really like eggplants, so he just curled up on the floor. The rug reeked of vegetables.

With his backpack as a pillow and his rifle as a teddy bear, he drifted off to sleep in the cold of the night, only the chirps of insects reminding him of home.

Crickets, he thought.

But they weren't crickets.

Nathan Kiowa was far, far from home.


	3. The City of Purple Progress

In Nathan's eyes, there was nothing better than the sweet scent of the morning.

Just like home, here the soft dew would slowly rise off each and every strand of grass, and when you'd walk through them your pants would catch the cool freshwater. The sun was soon to set in, however, leaving the grass to dry off. But not before the dew would rise up into a gentle mist, draping the world in a shroud of mystery.

This world was not much different, which was very comforting to the soldier. He stood on the porch that morning, wearing nothing but his uniform. His boots lied on the creaky wooden steps to warm up in the early morning sun. It wasn't very effective, sure, but Nathan was a practical guy. To an extent, at least. Right now, he didn't want to waste a single moment. This day was fresh, and Nathan felt motivated. The night before was a successful one, and he wanted to keep it that way.

He stretched his arms out wide, his black hair being caught in a gust of wind. The wind of Gamindustri, not Earth. It still felt surreal to him, being in a whole other world. He'd only been conscious for the duration of the night, and that meant there was so much out there to explore. To discover.

The scent of curiosity overtook him. It could've been eggplants, but at this moment he didn't care. He was motivated to explore.

He strapped his holster to his thigh, and strapped on his boots. He decided to leave his gear in the house, it wouldn't be necessary to need it. After all, he was only going to be gone for a moment. Just a quick stroll, that's all.

He reentered the house for just a moment, pushing his gear under the couch. Warechu just kept sleeping on the couch, snoring soundly as he did so with his chest bobbing up and down ever so softly. Nathan was careful not to wake the mouse. It was dusty and filthy under there, but he could clean any gunk off later. He just didn't want the residents to mess with his stuff if they were to wake up.

Satisfied at his actions, Nathan stepped towards the door. He took one last look at the eggplant on the table, but still decided against eating it. He wasn't desperate enough to eat an eggplant yet. He really wasn't a fan of them.

Once he had stepped out of the house, he promptly set off on his walk. He turned left once he hopped off the porch steps, and onto a thin dirt road flanked by tall, thin plants. He gazed in awe at the scenery. It all seemed very similar to home, the grass, bushes and trees all giving him the illusion of taking a familiar walk in the countryside.

But he shook his head. This wasn't home, no matter how much he wanted it to be.

Nathan walked as the dew turned to mist, fogging up his vision. It wasn't thick, but the sun blended with the haze to make it shine faintly. The world looked mystical in the morning fog, weaving between trees and the brush. He forgot about the war for a moment and just drowned in the beauty of Planeptune.

Up until he pushed through the light green plants and stumbled across a small pond.

The serene light reflected across the clear surface, and melded with the ripples. The scent of mud and the wild filled Nathan's nose as he stepped into the spongy soil of the shore. His boots sank an inch into the ground with every step he took towards the water.

Nathan might as well have been in a trance. This was the most peace he had felt in weeks, and it felt a little ironic that he felt most content in the land of his enemy. But he didn't think about that much at all. He just stared into the water, watching the reflections of the clouds go by.

A streak of light crossed the sky in silence, heading far to the east in a whirlwind of speed. The resulting blast of sound snapped him out of his serenity, and jolted him back to his senses.

He saw four distinct colors, but he couldn't quite make them out in the reflection in the water.

Nathan snapped his attention up into the sky, but the speeding object was already gone.

Hmm. He thought that to be the strangest thing he'd seen so far in Gamindustri. He had thought he'd see a bunch of monsters or people, but so far he didn't see much of either. _No matter_ , he thought. _I should head back now_.

Lazily and reluctantly he turned around, back towards the trail. With hands in his pockets, he stepped forwards.

Then he heard the sirens.

The yells.

They were faint, but they were definitely there. The screams and yelps came from the farm!

That only meant one thing.

Nathan dashed forward with all his might, a frantic look in his eyes. He wasn't about to lose his new partners, not after what he'd told them.

He bounded over stones, roots and grooves in the path, right up until he got near the end. There, he slowed down to a crouch. He drew his pistol with shaky hands. His breathing was rough from his running, but his eyes peered at the run-down house with dread.

"Ugh!"

"Hey, take your mangly hands off me, chuu!"

"We knew you were harboring the enemy! Tell us quickly and you won't have to get hurt."

Oh crap. It was just as he'd feared.

Four futuristic black vehicles were parked in a semicircle around the front entrance, one truck even flattening some of the crop! Almost a dozen soldiers in jet black uniforms stood with their weapons at the ready. Their black masks were very intimidating to Nathan, but he had seen them before. He knew that they weren't invincible.

Two soldiers held Arfoire and Warechu at gunpoint on the porch. In front of them, with a unique pistol, was someone Nathan thought he would see again.

Her heavy blue jacket sent shivers down his spine. Her long brown hair waved in the wind, and she brought a free hand up to push it away from her eyes. Those eyes were the last thing Nathan's best friend saw before he was killed.

That girl was the Wind Walker of Gamindustri, one of the most feared commanders of Planeptune's armed forces and to Nathan, his worst nightmare. A while back, before he was dragged into the army, he was wasn't alone. He had Owen. A temperamental smoker, an angsty conservative, a rebellious hero, a friend. They were on the run, homeless and scared. On their way to find the rest of humanity, they found IF. She tried to kill them at first, but somehow they managed to cheat death once. The second time, she got Owen in the head. Then she got him, too, but Nathan managed to live. And he was here now. And she was there now.

Nathan's hands shook with emotion. Fear, anger.

Revenge.

No, revenge is never the answer. He knew this. An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, right? At least, that's what his mother always told him before she died.

He was starting to get too emotional, and he knew this too. His mom, Owen, two people taken too soon. Mourning had to wait. It always did.

"Well? You _criminals_ going to confess or what?" The former guild member ran her fingers along the top of her pistol slowly and menacingly. She put up a strong, authoritative image.

"I told you once already." Arfoire had a trail of blood streaming from the corner of her lips. "We got no idea about any spy, IF."

IF started to pace, not once taking her eyes off her prey. "We know you had contact with the enemy. Like I said, just tell us now or we'll have to bring you in."

"Go to hell!" Warechu spat. The soldier assigned to him brought her weapon back in preparation to strike. The mouse squeezed his eyes shut as the soldier brought her weapon down on him. Warechu was on his side, unconscious.

"You feel like talkin'?" IF stood before the remaining resident. "You should know I never liked you. Not then, and definitely not now. There's a world of hurt waiting for you back in the capital."

Arfoire smiled. She stared IF right in the eyes.

"Not talking, huh? Alright." She pointed at the former criminals with her pistol. "Take them away."

The soldiers snapped to attention, bringing their leader's command to fruition. The dragged both the mouse and the Goddess into their vehicles, the latter not saying a word. As they boarded their trucks, Nathan knew he had to make a move.

But what? He couldn't just swoop in and rescue them. IF was there for fuck's sake! He grit his teeth, helpless to do anything.

Not now, at least.

* * *

The vehicles were loaded.

The house was empty.

The engines started up, the early morning peace shattered.

As the trucks started to pull onto the dirt road leading to the main road, Nathan rose to his feet. The cars picked up speed, and left behind a trail of dirt.

The terran sprinted to the house. He bashed the door open, scrambling for his gear. First, he threw his vest on. Second, he strapped his backpack over his shoulders and clicked them tightly together. And finally, he pulled his M4 rifle up to his chest. He pulled out the magazine to double-check it's contents. He slammed it back into his weapon with a click.

With haste, he darted to the door. But he stood in the doorway. He looked back.

The eggplant was still there, untouched. It's almost as if nothing had ever happened.

It's a shame it had to go to waste.

Nathan didn't look back as he ran to the road. His hands started to get sweaty in his gloves, but he didn't care.

The main road stretched out for miles in both directions. To the left it disappeared over a hill, and to the right it weaved across the plains before folding into a forest. Beyond the tips of the tallest trees was the silhouette of a big, white city. Skyscrapers tickled the thin clouds, and a massive spire extended even higher. That must be the capital.

In the distance, the black vehicles slowly dissolved into the forest, speeding away from Nathan at breakneck speeds. This wouldn't do. How the hell was he going to catch up with them?

For a minute, Nathan stood there, panting. He felt defeated. There wasn't anything he could do, was there? And that's when fate decided to kick him in the shin. By that, a big purple bus crossed the horizon to his left.

He wouldn't be able to catch up with the two, that's for sure. But if he took the bus, he'd still be able to make it to the city. That's a whole lot better than just sitting around on an eggplant farm. Maybe he'd even find a way to rescue his new acquaintances.

"HEEEEY!" Nathan threw his left hand into the sky, waving as high as he could. "I could use a ride!"

The bus slowed to a stop, right beside the soldier. The doors opened for him, and Nathan immediately leapt inside.

The bus was packed. It seemed as though people took the bus early to get to work, huh. All eyes were on him as he approached the driver. The driver was an old man with a neat little hat on his head.

"Uhh… I don't have any cash on me." The teen in uniform said with flushed red cheeks.

"That's fine. Fare's free. Sit'own, just take a seat. People have places to be." The driver spoke, rolling his eyes. "Kids these days…"

Nathan smiled, relieved at his words. He shuffled down the aisle, down to an open seat. It was near the back, right beside the window. The bus started to move, the sudden push startling him.

"Whoa!" He almost lost his balance, but luckily someone grasped him by the wrist.

"Hey, are you alright? I'm glad I caught you." A girl spoke.

Safe, Nathan unbuckled his back and tossed it onto the ground in front of him. He set his gun between his legs, and finally he looked up at his savior.

"Yeah, thanks a bunch!" He nodded.

She sat right next to him, to his left. She had short, red hair reminiscent of a tomboy. A grey headband weaved through her hair, revealed only at her front. On her neck she had a choker, and strangely enough, she wore a very revealing crop top coupled with a matching blue crop-top jacket. That didn't make sense to the soldier. Why wear a jacket if it isn't going to keep you warm? But back to the girl, she also some blue and white skirt with a noteworthy brown belt. Her legs were covered in stockings, and she had boots as well. Boots! It wasn't really necessary to wear boots, now was it? Well, at least for normal people.

And she didn't really seem all that normal with the bigass instrument case tucked under her seat. To Nathan, it didn't really go with her outfit. But the weapon in his hand might not be legal either, so he also must seem out of place too. Maybe that's why he was let on board the bus…

"I'm Nathan, thanks for helping me." He held out his hand.

"That's not a name you hear very often." She raised an eyebrow. In all honesty, she had never heard that name before. "My name is Falcom, nice to meet you!"

"I can't say I've heard the name Falcom commonly either. But hey, maybe I'm in the wrong here." Nathan shrugged.

"Eh? Really now? I'm actually quite the average adventuress, so that's something."

"As for me, I don't see you as very average." He pointed at her clothes. "That getup is not common where I'm from."

"Interesting." She pointed back, gesturing at Nathan's clothes. "You don't see that getup everyday either. Hmm." She brought her hand to her chin, thinking. After a moment, she raised it in realization. "You're a cosplayer, aren't you! You don't see many of those people around these parts, and that definitely is a unique costume. Who are you supposed to be?"

"Huh?" Cosplay? Isn't that the thing that fans do when they dress up as a character? He had some friends back home who were massive weebs. It seems as though he's going to have to pass as a convention-goer to remain incognito. "Yeah… It's a cosplay."

"Who are you supposed to be, though? No offense, but I don't exactly recognise the character. Trust me, I know most of the common cosplays. But that camouflage… and that rifle… that's unique."

"Uhh…" _Damn it!_

"Oh! I know where that's from! You're one of those soldiers… aren't you? I've seen some of the pictures for myself on the internep, and if I recall correctly, you're a soldier from the Earth!"

"Eh… yeah! You got me!"

"That's quite the bold move. I don't judge you, but there are tons of people around here that really don't like them. Seriously." She looked him in the eyes. "You don't have any extra clothes on you?"

"No, not really. I just planned on getting to the convention and getting out, that's all."

"That's weird. That big bag, and no extra clothes?"

Nathan shook his head. They had been talking for a while now, and they had passed through the forest without a hitch. The other side was more urban, houses and road signs start to line the street much more now.

"I'd love to help you out, you know. Maybe I could take you shopping?"

 _Funny. Real funny._ "That's a very kind gesture, Falcom!" He said with a smile. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to turn you down, though. Don't take it personally, but I'll be fine on my own."

Falcom was embarrassed after that. "Oh, yeah. What's up with me, of course you're fine! Jeez, I'm sorry for being so obsessive or whatever. I just really like to help people and all, it gets to my head sometimes."

Nathan grinned enthusiastically. "That's really nice of you, Falcom. Don't stop being kind. Keep up what you're doing, who knows, maybe you'll come across someone like me who really does need your help!"

"Yeah, you're right!" Falcom returned the smile.

The bus stopped for the first time since it picked up the pseudo-soldier. They were now idling at the corner of a street in the middle of the city. All around the bus, tall skyscrapers climbed past the clouds, and the sounds of traffic presented a dull ambiance from within the bus. There was a large building off to the right of the bus, colored white with all sorts of hologram television screens being projected into the street.

"Oh, the guild is right there. My stop. I'll see you around, nice talking with you, Nathan!" Falcom waved goodbye as she got up from her seat. With one hand she scooped up her instrument case. She stepped out into the aisle with a smile on her face.

She left the vehicle, leaving Nathan behind.

Tons of people exited the bus, all heading into the big building along with Falcom. Maybe that's the guild. _I wonder what the guild is…_

"You're not getting off the bus, kid? Convention center is right across the street." The driver shouted back to Nathan, who was drifting off into his thoughts.

"Oh jeez, thanks for reminding me!" Nathan got up from his seat, throwing his bag back on. He clutched his weapon with both hands maintaining good weapon handling safety procedures as he kept walking to the door. "Thank you, sir."

"Not a problem." The driver nodded, the expression purely of kindness. That was the first sign something was wrong.

"He he," Nathan chuckled nervously. "Take care, sir!"

"Oh, you too!" The driver tilted his head, appearing to be kind.

The soldier stepped out of the vehicle and onto the crowded street. This was around 08:00 in the morning now, and the sun beat down on the swarm of pedestrians from above.

Nathan, not sure of where to go or what to do, just went with the crowd and walked.

Back on the bus, however, the old man reached for a handheld radio. He pulled it to his mouth with one hand, his oblivious demeanor shattering.

"We've got a positive on a Spade. Heading southwest on Platinum street, turning right to southwest." He lifted his finger off the talk button.

A female voice crackled back. "Solid copy on Spade, dispatching QRF to target location, ETA four minutes, over."

* * *

Nathan could tell something was wrong, right off the bat.

The first clue was simply common sense. What kind of bus driver is that friendly to a man with a gun? He was far too welcoming, and on his exit he was far too happy with his job, going so far as to hold a conversation of pleasantries with him. It didn't take an expert to understand that that man was not what he seemed to be.

But what was he? That answer could be anything, and Nathan hated uncertainties in his line of work.

Paranoid, he ducked into an alley. It was dark and inhospitable there, not much different than what is typically thought of a dark alley. Trash and grime covered the ground and the corners of the buildings were not exactly clean. The walls were moist for some reason that made Nathan queasy to think about, making him want to throw up a breakfast that he didn't have.

Speaking of which, he was getting pretty hungry. Luckily for him, he had brought with him two whole MREs in his bag, but now wasn't a good time to eat, no matter how hard his stomach rumbled.

Even if he wanted to eat something, a dozen dark silhouettes stepped into the alley, the light of the city at their backs. Nathan froze.

They had masks and helmets.

They had guns, some nasty looking ones to boot.

And one of them had a real nasty looking sword. Big and mean, it's nasty serrated blade only making it look nastier than it is.

Nathan's fight or flight instincts screamed "FLIGHT" at the top of their metaphorical lungs.

But to make matters worse, this damn alley was a dead end.


	4. Warm Welcome

"Hold it right there! Drop the weapon right now!" One of the soldiers yelled. The leader, Nathan assumed. A woman, too. All six of the masked soldiers crowded around the mouth of the alley, the barrels of their guns staring down the foreigner.

Nathan had to think fast, real fast.

He stood right smack dab in the center of the alley, facing the enemy who wanted him dead. Instinctively he tensed his knees together, ready to jump to the side and behind a trash dumpster at a moment's notice. But that wouldn't work. He'd be gunned down before he could make another move, and that would just leave him as a bloody mess in a pile of trash.

"Easy, easy now!" Nathan yelled, holding his gun forwards. He aimed right at the ground below their feet, not quite aiming at them but still able to shoot if needed. "Please don't shoot!"

The leader repeated her demand. "Drop the gun, buddy! You're going nowhere!"

"I'll drop the gun, I'll drop the gun!" Nathan yelled again, but paused. "How can I be sure that you won't shoot me if I do?"

"What kind of question is that? Drop the gun, asshat! Don't make us shoot you!"

 _She's temperamental, that's for sure. Easy to piss off, not very intelligent for her line of work._

"You don't have to shoot me! I swear, I'll give up!" Nathan shouted again, this time louder. Pedestrians started to form at the mouth of the alley, curious at the commotion. They peered over the shoulders of the soldiers, and slowly more and more people started to gather. Nathan's plan was working. His palms were drenched in a nervous sweat, and his grip on his gun grew soft.

The authorities in the center of the formation were getting antsy. They kept looking back over their shoulders at the civilians, uneasy at the uproar of people.

"F-fuck!" The leader glanced to her rear, also feeling the pressure of the crowd. Some people cheered for their army, chanting for them to shoot. Others were excited to be at the very edge of the action. But the soldiers were now under lots of pressure to capture their target.

"I'll… shit!" She looked to two of her subordinates. "Get that guy, asap!"

They nodded, stepping forward and opening a gap in the formation.

The two masked men started to descend on Nathan. They were confident that he wouldn't put up a fight. He looked far too nervous and panicked.

Their assumptions couldn't've been further from the truth. Nathan was masking his true emotions of contempt under angst, and the soldiers fell for it. He bolted for a flashbang grenade on his carrier rig. He snatched it quickly and pulled the pin. The metal pin clanged on the alley floor as he brought his hand back to throw it. In an instant, the grenade smacked the confused leader in the chin.

BOOOSH!

The flash of light engulfed the enemy, and the explosion of sound shattered their morale. The crowd screamed in terror as Nathan ran. His ears rang, but he managed to cover his eyes so he wouldn't get blinded. He shoved past the two cowering soldiers in his path before making a beeline for the gap.

Citizens for whole city blocks heard the bang.

Nathan kept pushing through the crowd of confused and disoriented people thrown off balance by the flashbang. Once he finally made it to the sidewalk, he glanced quickly to his left and right. Further down the street, to his left, a black military vehicle raced towards him. On his right, a man with a gun knelt down by a trash can, frantically aiming right at the boy.

The man fired an automatic burst at Nathan, but missed. The teen drew his weapon to his chest and took aim at his enemy. He squeezed of a pair of bullets, each one slamming into the man's chest armor. The enemy was thrown off balance and collapsed on his side, retching in pain. Nathan was too panicked to see if there was any blood.

Cars halted in their tracks in the middle of the road as the black vehicle drew close. It kept on picking up speed as it drove on the abandoned sidewalk, obviously intending to run down the boy. Nathan darted forward and out of harm's way, weaving through the traffic. The vehicle screeched to a halt, horn blaring. A dozen soldiers in black pushed through the doors of the armored vehicle, slick obsidian-colored rifles in hand.

Out of breath and at wits end, Nathan ran past the cars.

"Excuse me! Sorry bout that!"

The boy shouted to pedestrians as he bolted through them. He made it to the other end of the street and kept running for his life.

This time, Nathan ran into an alley with an exit on the other side. He ran through the side street, boots pounding on the concrete ground. The shouts of soldiers rang out from behind him, and the sound of chaos echoed between the walls of the alley.

"Hey, you! Nathan, over here!"

Nathan stopped in his tracks, alarmed by the voice.

"Nathan, you idiot, get over here!"

Is that Falcom? What's she doing here?

Falcom knelt behind a green and black dumpster, beckoning for Nathan with the wave of a hand. Without any other options, Nate ran to her, kneeling down beside her.

"Falcom? What are you doing here?" Nathan stammered. He looked back down the alley, back to where he ran from. It didn't look like they were going to search this alley just yet, but it was only a matter of time.

"You're in trouble. I want to help. Simple? Good. Here, you're going inside." She knocked on the side of the dumpster, stirring up a dozen resting flies. The stench was overwhelming.

"What? You're kidding. No better way?"

"No better way." She nodded. "I'll come get you when this blows over."

 _Damn it._

Nathan was not a fan of trash. Nathan was not a fan of waiting _in_ trash. In fact, the worst part of it was was the fact that he'd have to _trust_ Falcom. She seemed trustworthy on the surface, and she didn't seem like she was hiding anything nefarious…

"Fuck it." Nathan spat, standing up. He tossed the lid off the dumpster, tossing his rifle in first. The bin was empty, and it clanged on the metallic base. "We'll do it live!"

"What?" Falcom questioned, and Nathan crawled hastily inside the filthy crevice as Falcom brought her arms up to throw the lid back on.

"Nothing, nothing." The boy looked at her in the eye. "I'm trusting you on this one." Nathan crouched down, glad that he had gloves.

"I'm glad. You won't regret it." She threw the lid back on, and then all light was exhausted from within the dumpster.

Falcom seemingly disappeared from the scene right after the lid came down. Nathan didn't see how it happened, and just focused on maintaining a good squat. With the backpack on his shoulders and his ammo on his vest, it took no time at all for his thighs to start to burn.

But he couldn't move. Not because the dumpster was so small, but because he could hear voices. Footsteps. They were running his way, through the alley! Nathan squeezed his eyes and nose shut as they came near.

He held his breath.

One whole second.

Two whole seconds.

Three painful, heart wrenching seconds.

And they were gone. The soldiers passed right by him in a rush, hoping not to lose the trail of the elusive teen.

Nathan started to breath again, taking in the putrid trash-filled air. It would be awhile before he could breath anything but that air. He knew the search for him had just begun.

* * *

 **Meanwhile…**

"Lady Purple Heart! Lady Purple Heart!" A woman wearing an official uniform scurried up to the Goddess's side, clutching a tablet in her arms.

The Goddess of Planeptune turned her head towards the aide lazily, not moving from her seat in the council room. She was in a life-or-death meeting, a meeting of such great importance that the history of the world depended on it.

She sat at a round table at the very pinnacle of Planeptune's basilicom. The room was the only one on the high level. In fact, it sat in the tip of spire, accessible only by an elevator on the other side of the room. The walls were all made of a powerfully strong glass, and from there all of Gamindustri was within sight. Metaphorically, of course.

Purple Heart sat at one of four seats. This table was one of the most important tables in Gamindustri, one that sat only the most powerful of beings. Black Heart, the Goddess of Lastation, sat with her arms crossed, opposite Purple Heart herself. Beside the two sat White Heart and Green Heart, both feeling a little annoyed at the tension in the air.

" _You humiliate me, aide._ " Purple Heart sighed, a tinge of anger on her tongue. " _You know what we're discussing here._ "

"Wha…? My Lady-"

" _You know what goes on in this room, do you, aide_?" The Goddess of Planeptune clicked her mouth in annoyance.

"My Lady there's-" The assistant stammered, trying to convey a message.

"We decide the fate of the world here, _assistant_. You intrude on the decision that will decide whether or not there is peace on Gamindustri, _assistant_."

"Lady Purple Heart! There's an emergency!" The girl shouted.

"Oh?" Vert, at the moment known as Lady Green Heart, raised an eyebrow. "A catastrophe in the heart of the Land of Purple Progress?"

"It seems like Neptune still can't keep it together, even after sticking with your HDD form for so long…" The blue haired Goddess remarked.

"Typical Neptune." The final Goddess, Black Heart, added. She rest her head in the crook of her palm, a sly smile curling up on her lips. "Do you want me to help you learn what it means to be a Goddess again? Oh, wait." She teased.

"Quiet, the whole lot of you!" Purple Heart snapped. "Now, assistant, you must have a good reason for this. Speak!"

"W-w-well, an enemy agent has infiltrated into the financial district! We have several QRF teams at the site right now, they are currently handling the situation as per the protocol." The assistant stammered, presenting to her CPU the pad.

"Hmm?" The Goddess of Planeptune was appalled. "How did they get a portal?" She demanded.

"It was a dysfunctional one, launched from the New Hampshire operation! We can't shut off on our end, I advise committing a regiment in the region to an operation to shut it down."

"You're kidding…!" Purple Heart gasped.

Blanc slid a finger over her chin, amused by Neptune's predicament. "Several teams? Are your special operatives _that_ incompetent, Neptune?"

"The Lastation Guard would have this done in a second. Did you say that there was only one agent? What an embarrassment…" Noire snarked.

"Shut it you two! Do you want a war on your hands?" Purple Heart yapped. Staying in her HDD form for so long put a strain on her. The stress from managing so much made her more quick-tempered and impulsive.

"In all honesty, everyone, this is an issue for all of us." Vert spoke up, sitting up straight. "The enemy is capable of launching a counterattack against any of us now. We can't let this happen." The Goddess of Leanbox spoke with determination and dedication in her voice. "You said that the portal was in the New Hampshire region? We must strike there immediately. I'll divert my forces from the continent of Europe to attack as soon as possible."

Noire didn't want to be ousted by a rival. "I have two fresh divisions ready to go. We will crush the enemy to the south, making sure that there will be no enemy reinforcements."

"Have you lost your mind, Noire?" Blanc said. "Two divisions isn't close to enough to cover the whole area. I'll send my forces to the north… Canada, is it?"

Vert smiled. "I'm glad that we're all on the same page now. It seems like this meeting has worked out the way that Leadbox had hoped."

"Agreed." White Heart nodded. "But what about Neptune? You've got to carry your own weight around here." The Goddess of Lowee looked behind herself, out the windows. Down below she could see search hovercraft flying high above the scene of the action as traffic piled higher.

"Planeptune will deal with it's own problems. This issue will be over by the end of the day, mark my words." Purple Heart turned to face the insignificant assistant, shuddering in her shoes. She handed her the tablet back. "I've given my orders though the pad. You can leave now."

"Y-yes, my Lady." She nodded and scurried back to the elevator, quickly disappearing from sight.

The room was silent for minute, each of the visiting Goddesses gazing upon the chaos outside with hungry eyes.

"Perhaps now Uni can meet with Nepgear again. Legally." Noire stated with a touch of concern.

"As far as I'm concerned, the old Friendship Treaty can be reinstated." Neptune sighed, staring out the window. "Planeptune's borders cordially welcome you once more."

White Heart smiled, reclining in her chair. "I have to say, I'm actually glad we're on the same side again. But that doesn't mean that those Kyanite crystals are yours."

 _Kyanite_. The crystal responsible for the invasion of Earth. It's properties of storing and emitting share energy are on a scale unlike anything found on Gamindustri, and whoever could bring them to their respective sharicite would be able to gain immense power. It was originally thought that they could bring a sharicite over to the other world and absorb the shares from Earth that way, but it was proven to wrong when Histoire tried to bring one to Earth. Nothing had happened for some reason, which just meant that competition to be first was over. Now the competition lied with gathering the most kyanite.

"We found a massive vein of the crystal in Indochina. It is I who will be the most powerful of us all in the end." Vert remarked smugly, deciding to revert to her normal form. She glowed bright white for a moment just before the smaller of her two personalities emerged, sitting triumphantly in her assigned chair.

Noire rolled her eyes. "Anyway, Neptune, I hope you don't mind me leaving now. This meeting is over, and I have important business to attend to back home." She stood up from her seat and proceeded to the elevator. She didn't look back as she stepped inside.

Blanc rose from her chair, stepping for the elevator. "Well Neptune, good luck getting your emergency situation under control. Vert, we'll be seeing each other later. I want to discuss the operation one more time before committing." She disappeared behind the doors of another elevator car.

Vert and Neptune sat in silence, Vert running a hand through her long blonde hair. Neptune had a second pad of her own at the table, and she started to use it. She turned it on and started scrolling casually through various apps and news articles about the current events.

Vert stood up, stretching her arms out wide. She took a few steps closer to the window, gazing out to the scene of the action. The sleek buildings of Planeptune did look radiant in the evening sun. Much time had passed since the morning, much time had passed since the meeting had started.

Vert wondered what it was like to be on Earth. Out of all the Goddesses, Vert had been the only one not to set foot on the soil of the other world. Her view of the people of Earth weren't tainted by prejudice or any bias, and saw the invasion as a sort of necessity, a necessity to keep a foot in the game. A necessity to stay on the edge of the action and not get left behind. But aside from that, she thought nothing bad of the people that lived on Earth.

"I hope you don't mind me walking the streets of Planeptune for a bit. It's been a long while since I had last visited, you know."

"I have no objections, Vert." Purple Heart said, not taking her eyes off the pad.

The blonde haired otaku turned to face the other Goddess. With genuine concern in her voice, Vert spoke. "Neptune, don't you think that it would be best to take a break from your HDD form? It certainly can't be good for your health."

"I feel just fine. In fact, I've never felt better. Purple Progress, that's what the people want from me. This form just makes it easier to fulfil their wishes." Neptune looked up. "Is there a problem here?"

"No, not at all." Vert looked down.

"I see." Purple Heart looked back down at her pad. "I bid you farewell, Green Heart."

Vert knew that Neptune wanted her gone. She eased into the elevator, deep in thought. As the doors closed, she leaned against the wall. The car automatically took her down to the lobby ever so slowly, the feeling of weightlessness taking Vert by the hand.

 _It seems like Neptune could use some help finding the enemy agent. I wonder what the enemy looks like in person…_

* * *

Almost 3 hours ago, Nathan had decided to use his phone. After all, he was going to be stuck for a while.

He still had 91% power, and even if he did run low, he thought ahead. In his bag he had a wind-up charger, an old design that generates electricity by winding a knob around a whole bunch of times.

The time kept on flying by, and of course he couldn't stay crouched forever. He made the fateful decision to sit down on the muck-covered metal after telling himself over and over that the stench was already there.

There wasn't much he could do on his phone, and he decided against playing any games. Instead, after a few minutes of just scrolling through menus doing nothing in particular, he put his phone away.

In one of his vest pockets was an iPod. It wasn't his iPod though. The old green thing belonged to a soldier of his, a soldier under his command. He wasn't even a soldier though just some 16 year old kid, and Nathan didn't know him very well. That soldier of his died in a humvee somewhere in Vermont. Whether it was the gunshot wounds that killed him or the heavy artillery called in out of desperation, the weight of his death lied on Nathan's shoulders. No, it wasn't Nathan anymore. Not after the day he was drafted.

Nathan was to be Lieutenant Kiowa, promoted to second lieutenant in an effort to make him seem more important to his superiors who questioned the action of sending him through the portal alone.

The weight he bore was immense.

Lieutenant Kiowa. He hated the name. This new start in Gamindustri would be the one to erase that. He was to be Nathan foremost and utmost, Nathan forever until death did him in. Nathan was who he was, not some rank in the military decided by some faggot asshole in the army. S _ome strongest army in the world, huh._

But he was here now, and that was all that mattered to his superiors.

Whoever he was, he held in his hand an iPod. In his ears were the only earbuds from Earth on Gamindustri, and playing through them was the music of Earth's modern generation. The soldier had good taste before he died, and Nathan came close to tears right then and there. The artist of this song was the Bleachers, the song: Wild Heart. He lost himself in the piano, the vocals, thinking back to times past. In that dumpster he listened to the songs of a generation that would be known through history as the one whose people fought and died for humanity.

It was a metaphor, was it? It certainly felt like one to Nathan. At least, that's what he kept telling himself over and over until the lid came off the dumpster.

He pulled the earbuds from his ears as the lights of a city came to his eyes. The sky was bright with the lights of the world, the windows of skyscrapers glimmering with light. A second sun, he thought.

"Jeez, you really stink!" Falcom teased, stepping back from the dumpster.

"I'd bet. I can't really smell anything but shit right now. Do you know where the nearest shower is?" Nathan commented as he clambered out of the trash.

"I'll take you to my place, you can stay there for the night. Just stay quiet, the streets are being monitored."

Nathan threw his bag over his shoulders again, and stretched his whole body for almost a minute. His joints cracked with pleasure as he finally could move again. Falcom started to make her way for the alley's exit.

"Evidently…" Nathan looked up into the sky with a expression of longing. "why are you being so kind to me?" Nathan questioned as he started to walk behind Falcom.

She just beamed at him. "Who knows, maybe I'll come across someone like me who really does need my help."

"Oh, fuck you." Nathan whispered playfully. Falcom snickered.

"But really though, you seem like a cool guy. I want to know your story, Nathan. You seem like you've seen a lot. As payment for my services, you must tell me what's happened in that mind of yours."

"I guess I got no choice, then." Nathan smiled, happy for the first time since the bus ride.

They walked out of the alley and onto the street. There, a motorcycle was waiting for them.

"I just got this bike last week, so don't go and mess it up, willya?" She waved her hand in front her face, indicating his scent was horrible. "You're sitting in the back, and I think I got some hand sanitizer with me."

"Really? How kind of you." Nathan pulled his gloves off and tucked them into one of his vest pockets. "You sure this bike will be safe? I mean in terms of being spotted."

"You'll be fine, just wear this." Falcom tossed him a motorcycle helmet, and Nathan immediately put it on. After that, she tossed him a bottle of hand sanitizer. With a word of thanks, the soldier used some before handing it back to her. "Get on." Falcom pat the seat behind her.

"Yeah yeah…" Nathan was really nervous about this. He was afraid he'd be discovered right away and he knew that that helmet wouldn't do him any good, and he worried that he stunk horribly. Well, he did stink badly, that was a fact. Nathan was a little impressed that Falcom was dealing with the stench so bravely.

The soldier threw his legs over the seat, and he placed his bare hands on Falcom's exposed waist. Gently.

The streets were not exactly busy, and he search for Nathan had gone out into the outskirts of town. Military vehicles were not exactly in the area, but that didn't mean that Nathan was going to be completely fine out in the open.

"You might want to hang on tighter." Falcom grinned, revving up the bike's engine.

"What do you mean- WhoooOOOOOOOOAAA!" Nathan almost screamed as loud as he could as the bike thrust forwards with a jolt. He nearly fell of the bike, and pulled himself close to Falcom's body as they picked up speed.

The adventuress just laughed though the night as they raced away, deeper and deeper into the city.

But in the alley, a person shrouded in darkness stood. It was none other than the Goddess of Leanbox herself, standing tall with her arms tucked under her breasts expectantly.

 _So, the agent is just a boy? How cute._

* * *

To say that Nathan was exhausted by the time they got to Falcom's house would be an understatement. He was thrilled to the point of death, sleepy to the point of fainting, and so done with everything that when it came time to step inside the suburban household, he almost toppled over.

It was a moderately sized house, and it was apparent that it wasn't really an elaborately kept one. The lack of furniture and decorations gave Nathan the impression that this was just a barebones take on a house, with nothing too fancy but nothing left out. Just the necessities, and that's just what Nathan liked. Well, the necessities and a powerful gaming computer. That's what Nathan liked.

"Make yourself at home," Falcom stepped inside first, flipping on the lights as an exhausted Nathan floundered inside. "I know it's not much, but it's home. The bathroom is through that door in the corner." She pointed to the corner.

"Thanks a bunch, Falcom." Nathan said, tired.

She chuckled, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water.

When the soldier turned on the lights to the bathroom, all his gear fell to the floor. He dropped his bag, rifle and vest right on the ground, then he closed the door and locked it. After that, off went the clothes.

As he examined his dirty smelling body in the pristine mirror, a thousand thoughts swelled up in his mind.

But they could wait, those questions could wait.

He really needed a shower. And a nap.


	5. Home

The shower was nice, Nathan had to admit. It wasn't home, that's for sure, but the feeling of warm water pelting your back doesn't change no matter where you go.

He dried off a long time ago, and had thrown his uniform into the empty bathtub to just sit there. He didn't feel like cleaning them right now, so he thought that maybe he'd just scrub them later. If he could get his hands on a washing machine, that would be best.

On top of a plain white t-shirt from home, Nathan put on his old blue jacket, one that he'd kept since he had left his house. He also slid on a pair of black jeans generously provided by the military. On top of them he had his holster strapped to his right thigh, just in case something were to happen. One pair of civilian clothes, everything else he was expected to acquire on the spot. That was reasonable in his eyes.

He stepped out of the bathroom, shaken awake by the shower. He looked around the room for his hostess, but couldn't find a trace of her in the living room. Unfamiliar with the layout of the house, he decided to wander the halls. Slowly but surely he made his way around the relatively small house, with only the wooden floors and plain white walls to guide him. He passed a kitchen and a bedroom before he found the staircase.

He crept carefully up the stairs, as the stairway was completely dark. Halfway up, Nathan decided to pull out his phone and use its flashlight feature to find his way around. Once he got to the top, he found himself in a tiny hallway with only one door across from him to the right.

He stepped to the door and knocked. No answer. The door had a lock above the handle, which he found to be rather peculiar. With the light from his phone, he noticed that the lock was on his side with the keyhole facing away from him, which immediately led him to believe that this was a door to the roof. He grasped the doorknob and pushed out, a gust of cold wind running through his damp hair.

"Falcom?" Nathan called out into the night, the skyline of the city enveloping the entirety of the horizon. The house laid on the side of a hill, and the roofs of other buildings were low enough to let him see the majestic skyscrapers glimmering in the dark. The roar of night traffic mumbled in the distance, making Nathan feel tiny and insignificant in this world that could swallow him whole in just an instant. It was a view to behold.

The moment he shut the door behind him, the boy spotted two figures standing together. Their body language told him that they were having a friendly conversation, or at least only one of them was. Falcom was on his right, and he could see her arms crossed and legs tense, as if she were unnerved by the visitor.

In the dim light, Nathan could make out the outline of the visitor. She had long, wavy blonde hair that draped all the way down to her slender waist. _Her waist! No one back home would actually have such long hair like that. Who knows how long it would take to wash that._ She also wore an expensive green and peach colored dress that didn't even work as a dress, it was more of a skirt. The dress barely covered her breasts at all, revealing a large amount of cleavage. As the dress waved around, he could also see that the edges were colored an elegant gold.

Falcom perked up when she heard Nathan call her name. She obviously was on edge, which meant that something was not good about this stranger. The woman in question turned to face Nathan with a smile, almost as if she were expecting him.

"My, Falcom, you said you had no guests with you tonight! That's odd… did you two…" She spoke kindly, but also knowingly. Falcom's cheeks grew red, fast.

"What do you think you're saying! Of course not! A-and I didn't count him as a guest. He just got here right before you arrived." Falcom was a terrible liar, but it didn't seem to bother the blonde, who just kept on smiling.

"Hello there!" She greeted cordially. "I'm Vert, just an old friend of Falcom's. May I have the pleasure of having your name?"

"I'm Nathan…" He made eye contact with the woman. "You can call me Nate if you'd like." The soldier was very nervous, but did his best not to show it.

"Well now!" The adventuress thrust her arms out, faking a grin. "It's really nice to see you again Vert, but I'd hate to trouble you any longer! It'd be awkward to have you come over when I already have a guest here!"

Vert placed a finger on her chin, as if to say she were deep in thought.

"You know, I might actually be getting late for a raid I had scheduled…" Vert muttered. She brought her hands back down to her side, looking genuinely alarmed. "You're right, it would be best for me to leave." She nodded. "A pleasure to meet you, Nate."

Vert finished her visit with a tiny bow and a wave, then turned towards the city. She jumped clean off the roof and onto the ground below without so much as a sound, leaving behind no trace of her existence. Except for the nervous sweat on Falcom's forehead, that is.

She rushed towards Nathan, ushering him to the door.

"We're going back inside, let's go!" She commanded, fast walking.

Nathan quickly spun round and pulled the door open for Falcom before entering behind her. Once inside, Falcom locked the door and then led the way to the living room. Nathan sat down on a plain white couch as Falcom settled down in a cushioned chair to his left.

"So what was that about? Was that really just an old friend of yours?" Nathan questioned.

"I guess you could say that." Falcom sighed. She shook her head, placing a hand on her forehead. "I was really scared there. I was a little afraid that she'd discover and report you. Lucky for us, they don't have a good image of your face, right?"

"I'm fairly sure. Don't count on my word, though."

"Alright. Let's just leave it at that. Don't come onto the roof on your own anymore, okay? Who knows who could be up there next time." Falcom scolded, and the boy in question just nodded. "I'm glad you agree."

Falcom yawned loudly, arching her neck back.

"Do you want to go to sleep now? I know that you want me to tell you about my story, and I can definitely do that. We can wait for the morning, I think it'd be best." Nathan asked, yawning himself. Yawns were contagious, and the weight of the day started to bear down on him. His back ached from being cooped up in the dumpster for so long, and his mind was strained from worrying so much throughout the day.

Her answer was instantaneous. "Definitely. I don't have a spare bedroom, so make yourself at home on the couch. Unless you want the bed-"

"I'll stop you right there, Falcom. Just go to sleep, it's late."

"Okay." She concluded. "I'll see you in the morning, then."

The redhead waved goodnight before slipping around the corner. Nathan sat there for a while, thinking for a bit.

 _Why was Falcom so nervous around that Vert woman? There had to be more to it than what she's letting on. But more importantly, where are the blankets around here?_

He scanned the living room only to find nothing but pillows. Nathan shrugged, glad that he at least had shelter for the night. He never really needed much to be satisfied.

But now that things had settled down, he couldn't just go to sleep. He had something to do.

He stood up from his seat and walked over to his bag, flicking off the light switch on the wall in the process. It was a little harder to see in the dark, but he still rummaged through his bag until he came across his radio. He pulled it out and held it with both hands.

Nathan was careful not to make a single noise as he crept up the stairs and onto the roof. The door was tricky, but by being smooth while turning the knob everything ended out okay.

Back under the cool night sky, Nathan leaned against the wall next the the door. There were some folding chairs and a table to his right, but he decided against sitting down. Nathan brought the radio up to his mouth and pressed a big button on the side to call home.

The device buzzed for only a second before he established a line to the real world.

"Lieutenant Kiowa, good to hear from you. This is Captain Lowell, I've been tasked with attending to you from here on out. How are things on your end, Lieutenant?" The static-laced voice spoke. The Captain sounded like a middle-aged man, a little British sounding.

"Not exactly quiet, Captain Lowell." Nathan paused, thinking of how to begin. "I made my way to the capital city, but the two supporters I had with me were captured." He paused again. "It's a shame, really. I escaped capture with the help of a local and now I'm about to hit the sack."

"... So you've been discovered?"

"Yeah, but they haven't identified me just yet."

"At least there's that." The Captain mumbled, disappointed at his discovery. "Well, good news. We got the hang of moving things through the portal. I'd go into detail if we had all day, but the gist of it is that we can pinpoint the location in which we want to send things into the portal. Bad news is that we can't get what we send back, so that means you're still stuck there."

Nathan shrugged. "Alright, seems simple enough. Why don't you just send over some special forces then? That would be a lot better than just tossing me here."

"Can't spare the manpower. Simple as that. All our forces are at half strength right now due to constant combat, and the units available for the mission are already occupied. And what's more is that they're all grown men. They'll stand out like a sore thumb if they try and do the missions we're going to task you." The Captain paused, rummaging through some papers.

Captain Lowell continued. "We're going to need you to do some intelligence gathering for us. Everyone is in the dark right now, so we need you to get pictures of the city for us. Maps would be good too, but images will be best. In the long run, our goals are to establish contact with the enemy and aim for peace diplomatically. In the meantime, you're going to be busy with some psywar stuff the boys at Fort Bragg got planned for you. I hear talk of something big, but I don't know the specifics. But don't worry, I don't expect much. No offense."

"No offense taken." Nathan looked down at his feet, not exactly happy that he'll have to start doing things. He was perfectly fine going off on his own and causing trouble like he'd planned with that Arfoire woman, but if there's a more official and quality alternative, he'll take it.

The boy started pacing across the roof, staring out into the distance as he walked.

"And understood." Nathan yawned, using a fist to try and cover his mouth.

"I'm going to get the guys up in New Hampshire to send you a camera. Are you in a good position right now? We're using your radio to get the location, but we can't see what you see."

Nathan looked around him, double checking that the scene was clear. "Yeah, it's all good here."

"Got it. One last thing, is there anything you need right now? They have some crap up north they're offering to give you."

"Uhh… yeah? What's being offered?"

Captain Lowell snickered, but spoke more enthusiastically. "There's half a pepperoni pizza, four cans of beer, a thank-you-veterans card, and finally a book of America- themed stickers. And don't worry, this book is made in the US of A."

Now that was an offer Nathan couldn't resist. He responded sarcastically. "I'd love some stickers, sir. And please do send the card, I'd _hate_ to forget what I'm fighting for."

"You got it, son." The radio operator smiled as he spoke. "Care package on the way."

Almost a dozen seconds passed before the ground in front of Nathan warped open. It's as if someone used a meshing tool in photoshop, the world blended right before his eyes. And then the ground opened up, not black like the portal he had gone through, but a blur of the world in front of him. As the portal quickly dissipated, a black camera, a packet of stickers and a little handmade card was left on the ground. He'd seen stranger things happen, so this didn't surprise him all that much.

"I got the package." Nathan kneeled over the gear with hopeful eyes, almost as if he expected more. "Tell the guys up in New Hampshire I said thanks."

"Sure thing. Be sure to check in tomorrow, we're trying to bring over more stuff. And make sure you're in an open area too, the next package will include some recon drones to help you out."

Nathan grasped the card with his left hand, holding the construction paper up to his face. It had a teal background, and on the cover was a messy outline of a soldier in crayon. The soldier had a wide smile on his face as if there was something to be happy about. Kinda ironic.

"Yeah," Nathan nearly choked. He couldn't quite keep his hands steady, which surprised him. "Will do." He whispered. "Out."

He set the radio down by his feet, allowing him to hold the card with both hands. He didn't think that he could get so emotional over a damn _card_ , but it really did do him in. He just felt so _homesick_ , worse than he'd ever felt before. What was he doing here, all alone? What could he do, all alone?

He chuckled a little to himself out there on the roof, and he questioned his sanity for a second. The boy soldier sat himself on the ground, squinting to see the paper clearly in the faint suburban light. The pages fluttered in the wind, beckoning for him to open them. Nathan complied, bringing his fingers around to firmly grasp the paper. He ran his thumb up and down the edge of the card, admiring it's rough texture.

A little curious, he briefly brought the paper up to his nose for a short whiff. It sure smelled like home. A hint of maple syrup and wax crayons. Made in China. Probably non-toxic too, just for the kids.

Nathan flipped the card open, finally deciding to just take it all in.

"Thank you for your service…" Nathan read aloud, barely audible, even to himself. Some unintelligibly drawn pictures were on the other page, probably some guns but he couldn't quite tell. The crayon was hard to read as well, but the boy just found it as heartwarming. Heart-wrenching as well. He felt a little sinking in his chest, his gut yanked down to the dirt.

But he turned to the back cover. There weren't any illustrations, but he saw deep dark spots. He ran two fingers over the dots, and knew what they were. The paper felt thin on the spots. The paper felt empty. Tears, he thought. But they weren't his. The child, he thought. But that wouldn't make sense. Maybe there just weren't enough cards to go around to everyone, he wanted to guess, but deep down he knew.

The boy soldier shoved the card into one of his rear pockets, unwilling to think of it any longer.

 _Alright, what's next?_

Nathan scooted over to the rest of the supply drop. A simple black camera with multiple zoom options, that would come in handy for his mission. It came with a sling, and he let it dangle around his neck. Next, he picked up a packet of stickers. Some of them were used already, but there were still a lot of stickers. American flags, bald eagles, labels of U.S.A and more, all in a wide assortment of colors.

Just for fun, Nathan stuck an American flag onto the grip of his M9 Beretta pistol. He wasn't much of a patriot, but he saw it as fitting. A little cheerful as well.

With his goals for the night concluded, the boy stood up. He crossed his arms, the lights of Planeptune dancing on his irises. Just like the early morning, the late night invoked deep thought. And he thought. He thought of the war, of home, of peace and of love. Freedom and this… tyranny. He'd seen it before, in China, North Korea, Nazi Germany. It's not that they wanted war, no. It's that they knew nothing more, it's that they knew nothing better.

 _We can't be all that different, us and them. All these people, they deserve better than what they have. Never before have I gotten so close to making a difference in the world, there's no way that I'll let this chance pass. There's no way that I'll fail. These people deserve so, so much more. I know I'll will be the one to bring it back. For Mom, for my old friends. For those dying right now, they all deserve more. And, I guess, for me too._

* * *

"Jeez, you've slept in for a while." Falcom stood over the couch, two steaming mugs of tea in her hands. "Do people from your world usually sleep until lunch?"

"What?" Nathan groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Groggily, he propped himself up on an elbow. "Uhh… some people do."

The light from the windows of the room filtered through thin cloth curtains as they made their way to Nathan's eyes, edging the night out of his body. Nathan brushed off his white t-shirt, then sat up and accepted a mug from the redhead, who also wore a pair of jeans and but unlike Nathan, she wore a blue sweater.

"That's one thing that people in Planeptune share with your people." She sat down next to Nathan, taking a short sip out of her steaming mug. "At least we're both human, in a sense."

"I guess so." The soldier also took a sip of the mystery liquid. It smelled like tea from afar, and it actually tasted like tea to him. It was like green tea, but the taste was a lot stronger. Almost bitter, but not quite.

Falcom turned her body to face Nathan completely, giving him her undivided attention. "You do remember how you said you'd tell me what you're doing here, right? We don't get to hear much about the war, so I want to hear about that too. If you're still tired, we can talk later if you'd like."

"No no, I'm good." He waved her off. The tea was doing a great job at waking him up. He faced the girl as well, whose eyes were wide and ears greedy. "Where do you want me to start, then?"

"Hmm." She looked down, thinking. "I think I know. How did it start?" Her eyes twinkled. "The attack, I mean."

"It happened a while ago, almost a month now. It's funny, I didn't think that so much time has passed already… Come to think of it, I'm a little surprised I lasted this long."

"Hello?" She taunted. "Don't change the topic!"

"Eh, true." He nodded. "I'll have to go way back if you want to really know what's going on, before the first days of the invasion. You see, my country just had an election, and the whole country got really divided. We-"

"An election?" Falcom smirked. "Seriously?"

"... Yeah?" He responded as if it wasn't a question at all. He felt a little attacked by the way she spoke, but kept that to himself. "An election. You have some sort of monarchy here, right? I see that equally as strange."

"But we don't have a monarchy. We have CPUs, and they keep us safe. They run the country, sure, but they're only as strong as we let them." She smiled. "And about elections… they don't work. They're all corrupt and nothing ever gets done."

"Gee, Falcom," Nathan placed a hand on his chest, speaking sarcastically. "I took you for a tolerant person!" His sarcasm leveled out, and he took on a more serious tone. "Have you ever tried an election here, ever?"

"Hmm..." She hummed, deep in thought. "Not really, no."

"Well, that just means you can't say that it's bad, now can you?" He teased.

"I'd guess so, but in theory-"

"I'll just stop you right there. In the same way you're talking, communism works 100%. You can't say you haven't heard of the Cultural Revolution, right?" She stared blankly at him. "Oh, wait." He almost forgot that he wasn't talking to someone from Earth. "Eh, I'll just leave this at the fact that in theory things don't always work out as they're supposed to."

She huffed. "Okay, so I guess in reality elections do work. So what? Why are you so passionate about this?"

"I'm not actually all that passionate. You're right that there's a ton of corruption that can influence democracy, but it's worked for a few hundred years now." He pointed out. "I just see a democracy as the best possible way to get everyone's voice heard, unlike here where there's a totalitarian tyrant in power."

"Okay, okay!" She disagreed. "Purple Heart isn't a tyrant. She's a friend to all of us." Falcom pressed the statement.

"I don't have the whole story, sure. But from what I've seen around here, I think you're just being manipulated to say that."

"That's ridiculous."

The soldier shook his head. "History repeats. That thing you just said, about her being your friend, I've seen that dozens of times in the past. The North Koreans worshipped the Kim family for three generations thinking that they really cared for them. In reality they could care less. I've got more examples. You want to hear them?"

"No, no I don't. I don't really get what you're saying here, in all honesty. Can we just agree to disagree?" It was obvious that she just didn't want Nathan to keep criticising her leader.

"I suppose so." He conceded. _Maybe I shouldn't talk about things she doesn't know about, like just about everything. My analogies have got to just be going right over her head._

"So, about the war." Falcom changed the subject, setting her mug down on an end table.

"Yes, the war." Nathan shifted in his seat, taking a sip from his drink. "It's not going good for us, that's all I really know."

"Okay… but what about you? What's your story?" She inquired, leaning forward.

"I came from the Eastern Coast of the USA, or United States of America." He reached down, over the edge of the couch. He picked up the packet of stickers that he had left on the floor the night before. "Want a sticker?" He held out the packet.

"Sure, why not." She replied.

Nathan grinned, placing his mug between his legs. With both hands, he peeled off the word 'FREEDOM' that was colored completely in the American flag.

"Here you go." He stuck the sticker right on the back of her hand. Falcom brought her wrist up to her face, examining the sticker hungrily.

"Freedom?" She scoffed.

"Yeah, freedom. That's what I'd like to think America is known for, but it really isn't anymore. We're supposed to be the bastion of freedom in the world, and that's mostly true. We have more protected rights and liberties than most of the rest of the world, and the country itself was founded on protecting it's citizens from oppression and taxation. But back to the topic," Nathan stretched his back and arms, taking in a deep breath of air.

"I come from Massachusetts, a state. We got attacked a few days after a bigass EMP blast took out most of the world's power alongside a bunch of crazy monsters that tore through the chaos. I ran towards Boston, the capital city, with a friend of mine, but we got caught by a girl from Gamindustri on our way there. She killed my friend." He sighed the last sentence dreadfully, skimming over the topic. "The rest of it is a haze… I survived, fought and captured some people, then I found the army and they took me in."

"Just like that?" She wondered. "They impressed you into the army?"

"That's a hash way of putting it, but yeah. Most of our military was overseas at the time, and the guys that were left were hit hard and disorganized. We needed numbers, even if they were kids."

"What was the need? I can't imagine how bad it must be for people at this age to have to fight."

He rest his forehead on his hand and closed his eyes, thinking back. "Lots of people were dying, Falcom. Faster than I thought would be possible. Faster than anyone thought would be possible. Keep in mind, we still don't exactly know who we're fighting. There's been no communication between us and just about everything we know about you guys are what we're getting from our observations. We don't have hovercraft like the ones you have here. We don't have superpowers, we don't have super cool moves or anything of that sort. Compared to us, we think that you're all a bunch of aliens hell-bent on genocide. I mean, there's got to be a motive." He held his hand out expectantly, as if his last statement were a question.

Falcom leaned back into her seat, puffing out a deep breath of air. She thought for a moment, a frown plastered on her face.

"I don't really know what the mission is. There's got to be one, sure, but I haven't been told. In all honesty, everything you just said there changed everything." She looked him in the eyes. "I'm told that you're just as powerful as we are, that your people are ruthless and just plain evil. I don't know…" The adventuress looked away from Nathan, towards the curtains. "If you're telling the truth, which you probably are, then I've got a lot of questions for Purple Heart." She declared.

She faced him again, a question on her mind. "What's genocide?"

Nathan heart plummeted. "You don't have to know."

They both sat in utter silence.

Nathan stared at the ceiling, and Falcom admired the curtains. The light was nice this time of day. As the serenity of the scene rolled in, the sounds of birds chirping echoed through the plain room. Nathan always enjoyed some peace and quiet in his life. He wasn't always a go-getter. After hours of wargaming on his computer, he'd slide his headphones off his ears, stand up and open a window. The fresh air would mingle with the stale air, and it would always feel fulfilling. A little fresh air goes a long way, and a little silence clears the mind in the same way.

Falcom stood up and stretched. They only talked for a handful of minutes, and the rest of the day lay ahead. She wanted to make lunch for the two, maybe today she'd break out the good stuff. After all, she did have a guest over.

The boy soldier closed his eyes and reclined his head back, onto the cushions of the ouch. It wouldn't be long before he would have to go out and photograph the city. Like a tourist. He despised tourists. Something about the way everything was so special to them, while to the people who lived there everything was normal. His feelings were irrational and impulsive. Nathan knew it though, so he felt like that was okay in the end.

Falcom pulled some bread out of a cupboard, placing it on the countertop beside the sink.

"Why do you do it?" She asked tentatively, sliding some bread onto a pan. She reached for the refrigerator and pulled out some exotic fenrir cheese and plain butter.

"Why do I do what?" Nathan responded politely, turning his head towards the speaker.

She sliced up the butter with a butter knife, and placed two slabs onto the pan. "You know," She turned the stovetop on. "Follow orders. You're here now, you have a whole new life." As the pan got hotter, the butter melted. She stuck a piece of bread on the pan. "People don't know who you are, you could just start anew." The girl stuck a slice of cheese onto the slice of bread.

"Well," Nathan got up from the couch, throwing his blue jacket on. "I have pride for my people. Humans have done a lot." He stepped into the kitchen, his bare feet slapping the white tiles.

Falcom didn't say anything. She just focused on making grilled cheese sandwiches.

"Look," He rested an elbow on the countertop. "I have an obligation to uphold. For myself, my people. It's a bit cliche, I know, but I feel like I got to do something for them. I can't just abandon the past."

"I wasn't asking you to abandon your past-"

"You kinda were."

 _Awkward._

"... sorry. I mean it."

"No problem, apology accepted." He smiled, standing up straight. "So I've got a question for you, if you don't mind me asking."

"I don't have any issues with being asked questions, if that's what you're saying." She wanted to smile, but held herself back, not turning from her cooking.

"Well, do you have anywhere to be today? You said you worked for a guild, right?"

"I'm lucky I still have my job." Falcom grumbled, adding salt to the cooking sandwich. It smelled crispy, delicious and buttery. "Lots of people in the Guild got hired by the military. But to answer your question, yes, I do have to go to the guild today." She answered bluntly.

"Okay, just wondering. I'm going to head out too, I'ma do my job." He started to walk away, but stopped himself at the last second. He smiled awkwardly, wrapping a hand around the back of his head. "Do you mind if I crash here another night? I don't exactly have anywhere else to go…"

"You know…" Falcom started, but stopped to think. "I'd rather you not, honestly. I mean, sure I won't stop you, but I'm in danger as long as you're around. It's what it is, Nate."

"It certainly is what it is." A wave of anxiety swept through him. He'll find a way to get by, of that he was confident. "It's perfectly understandable, Falcom. I wouldn't want someone leeching off me all of a sudden either. Especially if that brought danger to you, I wouldn't want to do anything like that."

"I'm glad you understand." Falcom still didn't make eye contact with Nathan. "Here, I made this one for you."

Using a wooden spatula, she carefully lifted the grilled cheese off the pan and onto a plate. She pushed it out of her way, allowing Nathan to get to it.

"Thanks, Falcom." He stepped forwards, picking up the plate with both hands.

"Think nothing of it."

Nathan knew what Falcom was doing, and he decided to just roll with it. He'd seen it so many times before in life and knew that trying to change the way things were going would just make matters worse. It was distancing.

Nathan said nothing more as he sat down at the couch. He bit into the crunchy toast, crisp crumbs falling to the plate in his lap.

A little burnt. Good nonetheless.

Such is life, isn't it?

* * *

It's a winter wonderland. Snow trickles from the heavens above, gliding ever so softly onto the pine needles of evergreen trees, the world is alive.

It's a forest. And when the shells come down from the heavens above, the pine needles of evergreen trees tremble, and the snow plummets to the dirt and the world is dead.

It's cold, right up until the quick burst of heat that turns the snow and dirt to mud, and the rocks to lethal projectiles.

But the rocks weren't the things that the men of the 21st Mechanized Battalion had to worry about.

It was the buzzing of a hovercraft's engines, the tracer rounds of a feared weapon, the flames of a burning LAV, it's armored sidings turned to death and it's inhabitants caught in an inescapable oven.

And in the remains of the Boston Common, that fate wasn't what the survivors feared the most.

Today, January 23rd, was the day that _she_ touched down on American soil. White hair, black suit. They called her the Harbinger of Death because of her appearance and the how the enemy catered to her, and that _they didn't know how to stop her_.

In the morning they gave up the Longfellow Bridge, the last intact bridge on the northern bank of the Charles River. Two days ago the engineers were caught in a building collapse on the eastern side of the city, trying to escort a group of survivors to the docks, and were unable to blow the last bridge. The wounded were not left behind as they all ran, and they brought to the Boston Common's overwhelmed trauma center to recover.

The wounded that couldn't make it to the Common were rushed to the metro, but it didn't take long for the Harbinger of Death to take down the entrance. The rubble locked them and many others inside, left alone to find another way out of dodge.

Logan International Airport was captured several days ago, and air support was nonexistent. However, brief respite was granted by the _USS Harry S. Truman_ of the Carrier Strike Group 8 floating offshore. Two brave F/A-18C pilots shattered the road to the Common with their powerful GBU-10 Paveway II laser guided bombs, and the destroyed buildings were able to halt the main enemy force's advance for almost an hour. In the meantime, the white haired Goddess helped to break various stalemates throughout the city, finishing off the last stand of the surrounded 2nd Infantry Platoon at the Bunker Hill monument, among others. The two navy pilots were cut down by her on their second pass of the city, trying to provide valuable air support to the evacuation center at Fenway park.

When most of the debris was cleared with explosives, the ground forces of the enemy were met by a determined resistance of infantry, chefs, accountants, fathers, marine biologists, students, tank crewmen and artists. Those too injured to be treated were given dulled knives and the last of the grenades.

And when that line was broken, _she_ came back around. Once the hasty barricades at Beacon street were blown by heavily up-armored support vehicles, the Boston Public Gardens were abandoned by the living.

They fought by the **Soldier's Creed** , and when their last machine gun emplacement turned to Lace Ribbons, they died by the **Soldier's Creed**.

When the guns fell silent in the Boston Common, Noire visited the Make Way For Ducklings statue. She passed by the Frog Pond, and took pictures of herself giving medical supplies to the wounded at the Tadpole Playground. She was always proud of her success, but something about the Battle of Boston hung over her head like a shroud. She heard the wounded speak, she listened to what they had to say. It was a surreal experience, and it pinched her heart.

 _Was this really a war?_

By the end of the day, those who didn't get away on the last ferry to the _USS Harry S. Truman_ hid in the rubble. To the end, they said.

 _Could I be… wrong?_

A man stood up from the confines of a deep blue medical tent. He leaned on a wooden stick, and his right leg stump was wrapped in musky white bandages.

 _No. Before I got here, Neptune told me that these animals were savages. They are. Yes, they are. They aren't like us. They fight like cornered rats._

The man wore a white down jacket covered in splotches of red. Thin tears ran down his muddy, dehydrated cheeks and over his untrimmed beard. He held a box under the crook of his left arm. His arms quivered.

 _I can draw my own conclusions. I don't need the other Goddesses to tell me that these people are savages. These people are savages._

The man stood tall. His box was red and wrapped with a dirty yellow ribbon. It was once a present for his daughter. He took deep breaths. He approached a patrol of four women in black.

 _These people deserve nothing less. These people are all the same. These people are…_

The IED took the four of them to Valhalla in an instant. They felt nothing.

The beginning of the fight, the resistance, the campaign. The war, the change.

The change of minds.


	6. A Small Walk

The outskirts of Planeptune weren't anything notable in the sense that they were different. In fact, to Nathan, the streets resembled that of suburban Massachusetts. There were black paved roads with cracks edging down it's length. A grey sidewalk ran along each flank of the road, aged by years of weathering and use. The houses were different, though. The architecture reminded Nathan of Europe, maybe central Britain. Brick houses in some places, while others were painted with vibrant colors. The neighborhood was quiet, despite half the day being gone.

He wore his civilian clothes: a white t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. Nathan's black beanie sat loosely on his head, the familiar fabric giving him a sense of security. He thought his blue jacket might seem a bit out of place now that the weather was warm and forgiving, so he just tied it around his waist, the rest of his things such as his uniform and his disassembled rifle being stuffed in his bag.

He assumed that his camouflaged bag might have seemed a bit out of place in this scenario, but not a single person on the street seemed to mind it. It was strange, really, but then again, this was a different place with a different culture. Maybe the norms concerning weaponization were different here. It's just another mystery for him to figure out.

In his arms he held his camera, and at random times on his way deeper into the city, he paused to take pictures; a train station, a store selling old video games, stairs that lead to a mystical walkway over the streets-simplistic things that made him feel like a tourist taking a stroll around the territory of Planeptune. Or maybe a photographer. He liked the feel of being a journalist, but he wasn't sure that he qualified as one. But in a way he was reporting something, and time would tell if his pictures would make it to a newspaper.

At a four way intersection he stopped, the sky was blue and partially cloudy, the air was soft and forgiving. The hum of idle cars surrounded his ears, and a red light was hovering on a floating traffic light. There was a handful of people standing to cross the street, and the funny thing about this scene was that it felt _so familiar._

It didn't seem like he was far from home; he could've just taken a trip to Canada since he knew how it is there. It was just like home and so close, too. Well, the floating traffic light shattered the scene just a little. But it still felt homely to the boy soldier.

He brought the camera up to his squinting eyes and backed up a bit, towards the quiet cafe behind him. The lenses adjusted for the range, the blur refocusing and allowing for Nathan to see clearly through the simplistic machine. He applied pressure with his right index finger down and it clicked, a moment frozen in time signifying the success of taking another picture.

He glanced at the screen, satisfied at his handiwork. It was a good picture, even if it wasn't exactly what the folks back home wanted. _Maybe it wouldn't be too bad to have some leisurely activities every once in awhile._ Nathan thought, slinging the camera back around his neck. _Even if it were to be for as little as a few seconds._

Speaking of the folks back home, he needed to find someplace safe to settle down and receive packages like the drone he was supposed to get. He still had a few hours left in the day to wander, so his work could wait.

Nathan walked and walked and walked, feet pounding the sidewalk as the midday sun beat down on him. Confident that he was anonymous to the military that was still out and about, waiting to capture him, the boy walked deeper into the city without a care in the world. Following road signs he believed that he was heading for a park, and if he knew his surroundings then he would be able to get around a whole lot better. Maybe he could even find a good spot to settle down without going on foot.

Alongside dozens of crowded pedestrians, he crossed an intersection into a vibrant green park nestled in-between dozens of skyscrapers and shops. The gravel path weaved through bushes, healthy trees, and lush grassland sprawling with an abundance of both picnic blankets and cheerful people alike. Couples held hands as they sauntered up and down the path, at peace.

Towards the center of the park, to the left of a pond, a pristine white gazebo sat at the crossroads of three paths. With the sun at his back, Nathan made it his destination. Maybe he'd find a map there.

As he got close to the gazebo he was stopped by two women. One in her mid 40s, and another fairly young. Probably mother and daughter, and the younger girl certainly stuck to the woman like a child would. The woman leaped right into his path abruptly and Nathan skidded to a halt, nearly colliding with the duo. The woman brought her hand up as if she were showing the youngling something out in the field, ignoring the boy.

"Pardon me miss," He said, grimacing. "I nearly bumped into you there!" Nathan stepped back, giving the woman some more space. Heinously, as if Nathan wasn't worth a second of her time, the woman's toes grinded into the gravel path as she spun to face him.

"Excuse me?" The woman brought a hand up to her chest as if she were offended. "I'm trying to show my daughter the colorful kites." The little girl arched her head around her mother's leg, staring at Nathan with big, round eyes. She appeared to be uneased by his meager assertiveness, almost to the point of fright.

Nathan looked to his left, into the field. Over the low hills, kites flew high in the sky in a plethora of bright colors. More kites were here than Nathan had ever saw in his life, and he was surprised that he hadn't noticed it before. _Maybe I shouldn't be so mission-oriented…_

"Hellooooo?" The woman waved a hand in front of his face. "Can you move? You're blocking the view."

The boy frowned. So he was in the wrong?

Reluctantly he took a step back. Then another. Nathan didn't want to take any more steps because of the swelling of self-righteousness swelling inside him, but he didn't want to cause any trouble. Best to not make a scene, even if this was very rude. It wasn't until he had taken his third step that the woman stopped glaring at him with a burning hatred.

"Shouldn't you be dead on the front lines, boy?" She scoffed as she turned towards the little girl. "Sheesh. Brats, the whole lot of them." The woman remarked, barely audible under her breath.

"I'm sorry? I'm still here, miss."

"I don't take it back, boy." The woman stepped away from her daughter, facing him head-on. "You think you're so tough?" She spat. "Where you from? Not from here, I'm sure. Let me tell you, _foreigner,_ we do things differently here."

A pair of passerbys jeered at Nathan as they passed him, calling him a trash talker and a draft dodger. It seemed like she had the popular support on her side.

Nathan straightened his back. "Please educate me, then. What do you do here? I was just minding my own business-"

" _Minding your own business_?" The woman mocked. "That's what they all say!"

" _You tell'em, girl!_ " A girl hooted as she passed us.

This wasn't going anywhere, and Nathan knew it. Bickering and trading insults only led to an escalation of conflict, and this woman didn't seem like the understanding type at all. Was she looking for a fight?

"Listen miss, I don't want any trouble-" Nathan started, but was cut off.

" _Don't want no trouble?_ Don't joke with me!" She hissed, thrusting herself forward. Some people stopped beside the two pulling their phones out to record the exchange.

Now things were going to go badly. Talking more would just lead to his face being recorded and attention being drawn to him. More words would just escalate the conflict, and at this point the best course of action would be to just walk away.

At least he was being put off as a tourist and not an enemy spy.

Ignoring the small crowd of people surrounding him, Nathan headed for the interior of the gazebo. Now he could see that there were some tables and shelves littered with pamphlets and papers, there had to be a map there!

Pushing forwards at a brisk pace, he disregarded the harsh words of cowardice being thrust upon him and kept moving away.

The gazebo was made of wood and painted in a gleaming coat of white. It was nestled under the shade of a pair of tall trees, whose branches scraped the roof whenever a gust of wind blew by. A dozen people blissfully circulated the steps to the interior of the structure in a dream-like state, not caring about the world around them. Nathan joined their ranks and clambered up the steps with the pamphlets in mind.

There were two soldiers tending to a table. _Recruiters,_ Nathan thought. One of them passed out papers and the other stood with her mask off, speaking cordially with civilians about the military. Nathan felt like he recognized the girl with the mask off. Creamy-pink colored hair and amber eyes, complete with a face that spelled innocence. He recognized her somewhere, somewhere on Earth, but his mind eluded him to the point where he nearly froze up in thought.

His gut screamed at him. He knew he couldn't let himself be spotted by her.

The boy spun away from her and marched up to a table covered in pamphlets and booklets. He scrambled for one of each, pulling his camouflage bag over to one shoulder so he could load them up rapidly, stuffing them into it's side pockets. Deep down he hoped that the pamphlets would cover up the camouflage and make him seem more touristy and less of an alien.

He skimmed the covers of each packet as he tossed them into his bag. A booklet on tourist attractions, _How to Tell if Your son is Pro-Lastation_ , _10 Reasons Why Planeptune is Better Than Lowee_ , _Portugal and You: Why Leanbox's Invasion Matters_ , _What Even is a Russia?_ , and last but not least, _Top Ten American Cities to Visit Under Neptune_. But most importantly was the inclusion of three different maps of this country, the entire continent and a detailed depiction of the city. All would be invaluable once he could send the images back home.

 _Funny_ , Nathan thought as he pulled his bag over his shoulders, _the Portuguese flag was actually sideways_. He chuckled to himself under his breath. _Now that really says something._

The walk out of the gazebo was uneventful, and when Nathan reentered the park he smiled. It felt like a good day to him, even if he did have that one encounter with that woman back there. Speaking of that woman, maybe it would be best not to go back the way he came.

With the help of the newly acquired maps, the boy pinpointed the next-nearest exit on the map and started up on his way.

Fueled by the desire to get as far away as possible from all the local crazies, Nathan dragged himself out of the park. He needed to get photographs of the maps as soon as he could. A nagging thought lingered on his mind as the anxiety of being discovered overwhelming him. It was an irrational anxiety as no one knew him for who he was, but it was the most prominent thing on his mind. He had to get off the street.

Nathan followed the civilian traffic all the way down the road, right up until he came across a corner coffee shop. Making a split second decision, he decided to rush inside, pushing through the glass door and onto a high chair beside the window. The moment he entered the room, all he could smell was freshly baked pastries. Sugar, maple, frosting and a whole other plethora of smells that made his mouth water. Two people exited the cafe, past Nathan with coffee cups in their hands, taking no notice to the boy. The fact that people weren't alarmed by his camouflaged backpack at all still surprised him, but when he sat down there were more important things to deal with.

After panting softly for a moment, things began to calm down for him.

With the task fresh on his mind, he threw his bag over onto his lap. Then he pulled out all the maps that he acquired and laid them out on the table. Quickly and methodically he opened up each map and raised his camera to capture them. It didn't even take him a minute to finish his goal, which must've made him seem awfully suspicious.

But his strange behavior wasn't what attracted the attention of an employee. Creeping up from behind Nathan, a young, scrawny man with an apron appeared. He was a little nervous at the sight of the fast-moving boy, but he still had a job. And in his eyes, this tourist might just be deterring customers from the shop. After all, no one liked tourists. He personally didn't like tourists that hogged space and didn't buy anything. Especially the ones from North Lowee. But the tourist didn't look like he was from North Lowee so maybe he didn't have to force him out.

"Excuse me sir," The employee tugged on his uniform collar. "Are you going to purchase anything today?"

"Huh?" Nathan jerked his head up to face the newcomer. "Uhh…" He stuffed his maps back into his bag, finished with what he came here to do. "... I got no cash, sir."

"Tourists." He hissed under his breath. The scrawny man tilted his head towards the door, telling him to get out.

Nodding, Nathan stood up and out of his seat. But someone spoke up.

"Don't worry, mister." A woman in green with blonde hair pushed through the door, holding a hand up. "I was simply on my way to meet him. No reason to kick him out so soon, now is there?"

 _Vert?_ Nathan questioned internally. She had no business with him, as he only saw her once before at Falcom's place. _Did she just say she was just going to buy me something?_ _That's too kind for a stranger._ Maybe she wants to get on better terms. Maybe she's trying to bribe him with food. Who knows, as long as she's not with some secret police force.

She waved the employee off, who just shrugged indifferently and headed back to his spot behind the counter. And then Vert turned to Nathan with a peculiar look in her eye.

"I'll be right back with some snacks!" She declared, winking. "Go take your seat, I'll be right back."

Nathan staggered back to his chair, visibly confused. He plopped his butt back down and rest his chin on both his palms with a sigh. He didn't exactly know what to expect next, and that both excited him and ran a shiver down his spine.

And he was left alone at the table, the dull droning of a radio to his rear and the sight of seemingly normal traffic before him. The faces of the pedestrians were either deathly dull, full of sadness and loss, or bright, colorful and so full of life. In his eyes, it all came together as a symphony of what could be, the silent crying of the city.

The soundless tears of what once was, and to him, what will be.


	7. Battle of Middlesex Fells

Once the docks fell to the enemy, it was hard to tell what was still under American control in Boston and what wasn't. The center of the city was long lost, along with the airport and harbor. With the strategic locations captured and the city evacuated, the battered and beaten defenders believed that now they would be allowed to retreat from the outskirts of the city, but that wasn't the case. Not when so much was at stake.

The remains of the small 21st Mechanized Battalion had to contain the enemy at Boston and prevent their access into New Hampshire at all costs. If their line fell, then the enemy would have a clear run right up into Canada. They couldn't let this happen.

A Canadian Anti-armor company was two hours out, too far to be of much use in the opening stages of combat. But an air squadron of the Massachusetts National Guard stationed in the surrounded Cape Cod, and a few Longbow Helicopters sent from Vermont were on station and ready to assist when the fighting begun.

They didn't know why it was so important to keep them out of New Hampshire and frankly, they didn't care. But they did know that they wouldn't last much longer, not with the surge of casualties they'd taken. The soldiers were disorganized and had just begun to lick the wounds of yesterday, but their work wasn't over yet.

Since the war had begun, intelligence organizations across the globe had worked tirelessly to intercept enemy communications and gain an edge through intelligence. Finally, things were starting to pay off.

Using hacked enemy networks and other lines of enemy communication, it was suspected that two whole armor divisions were going to land in Boston from the Lowee army, and then push up together with a Lastation infantry regiment.

Their numerical, technological and morale advantages would instantly set them leagues apart from the defenders.

But that wasn't all. Two unidentified units stood out from the rest of the enemy. The encryption was thick around these two units, but for an experienced team of Asian hackers the code was broken after merely an hour.

And so they learned of the Goddesses Black Heart and White Heart: supernatural beings with power greater than that of normal enemy soldiers.

Why call them Goddesses? Why were they so important? These questions plagued the intel analysts at both the Pentagon and across the globe.

But there wasn't time for speculation. They needed _facts._ They needed to know what these super weapons were and how to counter them before it was too late.

But was it too late?

* * *

The Middlesex Fells Reservation was as good a place to defend as any. It was a massive forested park dotted with ponds and reservoirs, but the most appealing detail of this location was the fact that the main highway to New Hampshire, interstate 93, ran right through it.

The Lowee tanks would have to pass through the woods in order to get to New Hampshire on this vital road, and the woods would make for excellent defensive ground to cover the American infantry. The remaining light vehicles and the last pair of tanks were stationed to cover kill zones along the road, coupled with soldiers armed with shoulder-mounted anti-air MANPADs to take down any Lastation hovercraft that decided to fly too close.

But to even the odds, intelligence also reported that nearly a dozen squadrons of assorted Lastation close air support had landed in Boston to support the impending offensive. Now confronted by the two airborne Goddesses, the F-15s would have their work cut out for them.

And when the first enemy CAS aircraft roared off the occupied Boston runway to unleash hell on the Reservation, the Air National Guard knew what to do.

* * *

Ever since his first successful air-to-air encounter over New York, Lieutenant Hayden never thought that things would get so desperate on the ground. We did have air superiority, after all, especially considering that the enemy planes were so far behind Earth's in terms of technology.

But each day told a different story, and today's story was that of desperation. However, over the Massachusetts bay, Lieutenant hayden was opposed to that notion. He sat comfortably in his F-15C over the glistening water, flanked by two of his wingmen. They held the callsign 'Chevy'. Further behind them, out in the Atlantic, a support AWACS aircraft with the callsign 'Wizard' circled high overhead, it's massive radar scanning the air for anything, aerial or alien, that might appear.

The flight of F-15s tore through the clouds at the speed of sound, and the pilots were eerily silent. Lots of things could go wrong at any moment, so words were to be reserved for only the uttermost important. One of these things of great importance were orders.

"Chevy Flight, radar on." He spoke crisply into his helmet in a way that not even a single person could mistake his order for something else. Chaotic dogfights and the static filter of the radio tended to mess up the transmission sometimes, so it was paramount to always speak clearly and concise.

"Chevy two, radar on." The static-laced voice of his wingman rattled Hayden's ears.

The group entered a cloud, blocking the view of the nearby coastline.

"Chevy three, radar on."

The continued to fly in peace, piecing the edge of the cloud with the force of titans. The gleaming metal of the aircraft shone proudly in the morning sun as the outline of the city of Boston appeared to their left. Tall glass skyscrapers were in disarray with the majority of their windows blown out by stray artillery shells. Some concrete-laden buildings had crumbled to the earth, leaving behind a stump made of rebar and rusted girders. The streets were lined by smaller buildings that, for the most part, seemed untouched at a distance. However, up close you could see the scarring of small arms fire and lighter explosives. It was a shell of a city, one uninhabited by normal human life.

The picture seemed surreal to Hayden, so he just trained his eyes on his radar. The black screen was lined in green, and the pip of the radar was like the ticking of a clock. Ticking away the seconds to contact. Ticking away the seconds to something bigger. Something more.

His radio crackled to life as a voice broke the silence.

"Chevy 1, Wizard, pop-up group, 348 for 60, 2500, flanking."

 _Hmm?_

The lieutenant extends his radar range until pausing at 60 kilometers. He also adjusted his scan altitude to 2,500 meters, scrutinizing the four bogeys popping up on the screen. He was scanning too high and too close, that's why he didn't pick up the enemy!

 _They don't seem to be a threat to me right now, but they are moving to the right, towards the defensive line._

He slewed his radar cursor onto the handful of air targets, methodically locking on to each one to examine them. They appear to be moving low and slow, usually indicators that they are close air support aircraft.

 _Oh no, that's gonna be a problem._

It would be best to intercept them now. The path seems to be open, and it's only a matter of time before they unleash their payloads onto his allies.

"Flight, engage bandits." He ordered, and the others returned the command with an affirmative.

His wingmen broke out of formation blasting their afterburners into action and screaming forwards. With their medium range missiles armed, they locked onto their respective targets and prepared to fire.

Hayden didn't want to be left behind, but he felt as thought it would be best for him to stay back and let his team handle the enemy.

The engagement occurred in a matter of seconds. His first teammate knocked out two airplanes, while the other downed the other two. Four missiles fired, four missiles hit. Only once they had slammed into the suburban landscape below did they see it coming.

"Good kills, good kills." He flicked his radar up to scan at 80 kilometers. "Join up, we're going to keep enforcing this no-fly zone."

The lieutenant banked his vehicle to the left, letting the sun massage the back of his head as he faced Boston. After several minutes his wingmen had joined him at his sides, allowing them to glide into the distance as if no conflict had happened.

The radio spoke up again, but this time it was someone different. A French accent, panicked and choked by the clutches of combat.

"Ground forces to Chevy, this is captain Layette of the second company speaking. Four enemy hovercraft are converging on our position- the western flank- and I cannot reach my anti-air crew. We need assistance right now! How copy, over?"

"Captain Layette, this is Lieutenant Hayden, we're swinging around to engage right now, give us two minutes, over and out."

The leader of Chevy squadron turned the radio to his own squadron.

"Ground forces are in trouble, four air contacts to the west." He pulled back on the flight stick, his back pushing down into his seat from the pressure of the turn. "Expedite!"

"Wilco, Chevy 2 is moving."

"Chevy 3, breaking off."

They group wasn't very far out, and it wasn't long before they were headed right for the massive park. Towards the edge of the woods, Hayden could see four black masses humming above the treetops. They were firing heavy ordnance at a single area, most likely the position of friendly forces. This was bad, but it only would last for another minute.

As he descended into a shallow dive, he armed a short range heat-seeking missile, an AIM-9M. As he got close, he set the center of his HUD over the aircraft until a lock was automatically acquired. Suddenly, when the sound of a shrill alarm rang through his helmet, he fired.

The missile raced towards it's target like a dart. The trail of smoke collided with the beast, but the ship wasn't defeated just yet. To finish it off, he lined up his cannon's reticle with the target and squeezed the trigger. The sound of the cannon burst through the air, and a glaring stream of death splashed over the target. Too much damage was taken to the vitals of the aircraft, and it couldn't stay in the air for a second longer. The engines failed, and the hovercraft plummeted down to the ground, wrecking trees and coughing up patches of snow and dirt everywhere.

Hayden pulled up into the sky, one target down. His wingmen did a pass as well, destroying the remaining hovercraft. Impressively, his second partner knocked out two aircraft with a single AMRAAM missile. A lucky hit, as both the hovercraft were stupidly close to each other.

"Good kills, flight." The lieutenant congratulated his teammates with a simple message as he pulled back up into the air.

For the next thirty minutes, they entered a holding pattern over the site, strafing targets of opportunity without fear of any anti-air fire. The Lastation anti-air vehicles were on the highway when the ambush had begun, in a hurry to beat the Lowee tanks to the next objective. It was all strange to Hayden. Their tactics were so alien, it's almost as if they had no experience fighting at all.

The enemy mainly focused on getting close and fighting in close-quarters, something that almost never happened in conventional warfare on Earth, at least normally. They fought as if they were in some sort of action movie, and that was proved when those two hovercraft flew so close to one another. That move was very dangerous, and simple common sense could've prevented their deaths from happening the way it did.

But they did come from another world, that fact was common knowledge. And that fact might be one of the only advantages they have.

* * *

"Private Vasquez! Private, fucking get down!" A harsh scream. "Fucking get down!"

 _Huh?_

Private Vasquez was a man of a small stature. For him, everything was small. His home was small, his income was small, his world was small. Never really traveled outside the states, despite being born in Spain. His world was small until he joined the army, and that's when he started to journey across the world. At least, North America. Massachusetts was new to him, as he was raised in Texas. The cold was something he had to get used to. But the moment the first hovercraft crashed into the ground in front of him, he thought he never would see the light of day again.

He froze, the tips of the flames dancing in his pupils. It seemed majestic, it seemed nightmarish. He felt nothing but the heat of the flames, and they reminded him of summers on the ranch. He heard nothing but the yells of disgruntled brothers and the whizzes of bullets passing over his head. He had to get down, he had to get into cover.

But he couldn't.

He saw those aircraft, those behemoths as being invincible. It felt right to see it die in front of him. It felt _right_.

"Vasquez, down, now!" His sergeant ordered, and seeing the private's thousand-yard stare, he jumped out from behind a fallen log to pull him down.

The moment he did, a trail of red machine-gun fire rocked out of the treeline to the left of the ship's carcass. Like a whip it knocked his sergeant to his knees, then to his face, and he cried out in pain. That snapped the private out of it.

"N-no!" Vasquez stammered, shuffling over to his commander and grabbing him by the forearms. He swung around and tugged as hard as he could, pulling the sergeant back to the trunk. "Medic! He's hit, damn it! Medic!"

The light of the fires lit up the scene for him, the chaos of combat molding him. Like a robot he retrieved a bandage and tried to plug up the wound on the sergeant's left hip. The soldier groaned in pain, hissing occasionally at the private's touch. But despite the application of the bandage, the sickly red ooze wasn't gushing any slower. _This was my fault, damn it!_ _Damn it all!_

"Move aside, go!" A medical professional kneeled down by the log, pushing Vasquez. "I got this!"

He didn't nod as he moved, but he did raise his weapon to his chest. The private crouched down beside the log and started to fire indiscriminately into the woods opposite him. He couldn't exactly see the enemy in the brush, but he knew that he had to be hitting something.

Once the rifle clicked empty, he ducked down, his hands reaching for another magazine.

After he reloaded, he peeked his head over the log. The fires of the hovercraft blinded him, making it impossible to see into the rest of the woods. He had to move.

Vasquez turned around, towards the medic and some of his fellow squad members. He saw the medic slouched over the sergeant's chest with a hole in his helmet. Dead.

He gasped, shaken at the sight. He froze for a second, but only for a second. The adrenaline pumping through his body, joined by this training, made his nerves as hard as steel. At least, that's what he told himself as he bolted out from cover and away from the log.

And in that moment he felt the searing burning sensation in his right thigh. And then this left thigh. And then his right knee. He collapsed into the snow face first.

With his left cheek in the snow, he bled. He cried, groaning sporadically.

Vasquez threw himself over, onto his back. Above him was a clearing, and the sky was blue. High in the sky, like dots, fighter jets danced like butterflies. There was something more, though. Something _human_. Not a jet.

But when a jet exploded, along with another and another, he knew it wasn't human.

The creature held a hammer, a mighty hammer, and it looked down at him.

And he died in the snow, surrounded by the others and fire and bullets and bombs and rockets and doom.

There was never much Vasquez or Hayden could do to begin with, but they still had a mission.


	8. Aliens

"So…" Nathan shifted awkwardly in his seat. It's glossy texture was perfect for sliding around in a nervous manner, all to his satisfaction. "Thanks for the…" Nathan murmured, looking down at his right hand. He held a donut-like pastry shaped like a heart, but it wasn't a donut. It was flaky, it was soft, and yet, somehow in a way that can only be deemed as _irresponsible,_ the pastry was crunchy. Who would let- no- who would manage to bake such a thing that could be devilishly crunchy and soft at the same time?

"The fenrir fluff puff." Vert promptly finished. She also held one in her left hand casually, taking a bite out of it and letting it's flaky, crunchy crumbs scatter onto the countertop in front of the two. Nathan gazed out the window, avoiding Vert's piercing gaze.

"Yeah, thanks for that. I'd been getting a little hungry and all-"

"Oh, hush. No need to flatter me, I know I'm generous." She smiled knowingly. "Well, at least I know when someone needs a fenrir fluff puff."

"Yeah, I guess so." Nathan nodded, finally deciding to match Vert's piercing blue eyes with his own. A little intimidating to the boy, but at least she wasn't a CPU or anything. To his knowledge and from prior experience, those people were terrifying.

"Ah, Nathan, don't be shy!" Vert straightened up her back, her breasts dancing in the process. "There's no need to be scared of anything. You do appear rather worried. Is it the flight? The locals? Oh, I know how xenophobic the locals have gotten over the years. Believe me, this is the second time I've been to Planeptune in years, and things have changed," She turns her gaze out the window, staring fondly out towards the massive spire in the center of the city. "Things have changed."

That piqued the boy's interest. He takes a bite, catching a cluster of crumbs with his spare hand. _Any and all information is almost as delicious as this fluff puff._

"How so?" Vert turned to Nathan, slightly perplexed. Nathan resumed, clarifying. "Like, what's changed? This is actually my first time here, so I don't know a whole lot."

"Ah, that's what you're asking. Well, in the past people were a lot less strict and uppity. There were also tons more people roaming the streets, and I remember sprouting casual conversations with people all across town. Now, people won't dare speak to others unless it's a begrudged word of thanks." She nodded solemnly before turning the conversation on Nathan. "You say this is your first time here?"

"Yup, my first time. It's a big difference from where I come from." He affirmed, taking another bite from his crunchy soft fluff puff.

"First times are always monumental, if you ask me. I personally hail from Leanbox… how about you?" The blonde innocently asked.

"Me?" He caught himself from stuttering. "Uhh… I'm from Lowee, yeah, Lowee."

"Ah, Lowee's very nice this time of year. I've been thinking of traveling there now that the wartime travel restriction has been lifted." Vert said before finishing off her fenrir fluff puff, elegantly licking her fingers afterwards. "But I'm here for the victory celebration in the coming days… friday, if I recall correctly."

The boy raised his eyebrows. "Victory celebration? I might be free that day, I'm not heading home for a while." Nathan knew that the more lies he told the worse things would be, but he had no other choice. This facade wouldn't last forever, but that victory celebration sounds like something notable. Sabotage, maybe?

"Oh yes, the Victory celebration. Purple Heart's assembled a festive parade together to showcase Planeptune's victories and military might. Not something I'd usually attend, especially since this isn't _my_ country's parade, but they're showcasing an Earth civilian!" She nearly squealed with anticipation, eyes staring off into the distance, deep in thought. "I personally have never been to Earth, and this is a chance I'd never pass up." She turned to face the boy again. "I've seen the pictures, but I've never seen a real Earth person. What do you think they look like? You think that they're cute?"

Nathan looked down for a moment, feigning deep thought. After faking for a moment, he looked up, an answer prepared. "I bet they look just like we do. After all, they _are_ human."

"My my, so certain…" She teased, wagging a finger between his eyes. "Well, I don't have any opposing thoughts, so your guess is as good as mine." Vert said as a matter of fact.

Nathan brought the puff up to his mouth again, swallowing the last morsel of the soft yet crunchy fluff puff. He longed for more, but deep down felt that it was selfish for him to indulge on the food of the enemy while others are stuck with those crap rations back home. He brushed his fingers off on a napkin, as opposed to Vert's licking.

"But once the parade is over, there's also going to be a spectacular performance at the Hyperspectacle Stadium downtown. I'll be going for sure, along with most of the rest of other CPUs. 5pb is going to be singing there for the main event!"

 _Other CPUs?_

"The… other CPUs are going to be there? And 5pb? I can't say I've heard of her." Nathan's skin started to crawl, a stalwart feeling of being compromised swelling through his chest.

"Oh, the other CPUs…" Vert mentally cursed herself, did she just blow her cover? "The other CPUs, not the main ones like Purple Heart and Black Heart. You have the CPU candidates, too."

"Oh, okay. For a second I thought you were talking about… eh, nevermind." A surge of relief overcame the black-haired boy as he waved off his last thought.

"Mmhm." The blonde hummed in affirmation. "As for 5pb, she's _the_ world famous Leanbox pop singer! Blue hair, wonderful voice," She placed a hand on her chest, seemingly appalled. "I can't believe you haven't heard of her!"

"Hey, where I lived we didn't have much connection to the outside world. I don't know much about your… what's the word… pop culture." He said, feeling a little playful.

"Well I'm sorry you happen to live under a rock." Vert smiled, also perky. The boy exhaled with glee, the more moderate form of a laugh.

To Nathan, she had such a upbeat and pleasant aura about her. She handled small talk very well, seemed intelligent, and, at least to him, was kinda funny. He almost didn't want this moment to end, but he knew that he had a job to do. And besides, what more was there to talk about? Rationally, small talk wouldn't really get him anywhere, and the more he talked the more he would have to lie. He hated lying.

"Vert, I'm glad we had this conversation." He nodded. It was a rather archaic compliment, but it seemed to suit her personality almost as well as her bountiful blonde hair did.

"I agree. Perhaps we can discuss more important matters in the future, like global cooling and maybe even the war. But I'm sure you can find something of interest outside of what I can think of right now." She pulled herself out of the chair, holding out a hand. Nathan took it, and she helped him get to his feet. "It was a pleasure, Nathan."

"Yeah, it was." The boy grinned, tugging on his backpack's straps. "Until next time!" He waved once before promptly leaving the facility, not looking back. He took a right, disappearing into the crowd.

Vert stood alone in the cafe, faces of dozens of nobodies passing her by, just outside the window. She stood alone, arms crossed and at ease. But despite her sudden lonesomeness, she smiled. She smiled because she didn't feel alone, not with the passive warmth flickering and gurgling gently in her chest.

* * *

 _So, there's a parade in two days… friday… and there's a prisoner? Some trophy, huh. I'm a little surprised there aren't more captives, but hey, what do I know. I'm just some kid._

Nathan wandered down the streets for a while with no particular place or goal in mind. He wasn't really sure on what he was doing, but he knew he needed to find an open area to receive the shipment tonight, and speaking of tonight, it was getting late. The sun had begun to dip behind the tips of the rooftops, and the shadows from the skyscrapers helped protect his eyes from the glaring sun. It was definitely a welcome experience.

It kinda reminded him of the time he went on a vacation to New York. But not really. The air was different, the smell wasn't right, and the atmosphere was too tense. Almost hostile. The more he wandered, the more he felt cornered.

Nathan pulled himself over to the side of the road, pulling his camera off his chest and into his eager arms. He turned it on, accessing the photo album in search of the map. It was a little blurry because he was rushed when he took the picture, but he found his location nonetheless. It would've been easier for him to just pull the damn map out of his bag, but to him that was too much of a hassle. But now that he found his current position, he needed to complete today's task: finding shelter. Flat ground, preferably somewhere secluded. His hungry eyes wandered across the screen, and after a minute he found a suitable location. Warehouses in a less residential part of town, near the docks. Almost half an hour of walking, but the place would do just fine. At least, that's how long it seemed like it would take on the map.

Nathan switched the device off. With the route to the docks still fresh in his mind, the boy soldier pushed onwards to his assigned location. As he walked, the scenery slowly changed around him from the interior of the city to being surrounded by more derelict roads and houses. This side of Planeptune definitely isn't what Purple Heart wants to show to the world. The sidewalks were crooked and cracked, industrial buildings were in desperate need of a paint job, and the early-rising streetlights flickered in the waning light of the afternoon.

Eerie. Unpleasant. Not the first place Nathan would choose to make his home, but not something he couldn't bear. _Now,_ he thought as he crossed an empty street, _which building looks the most deserted?_

Now on the street corner, Nathan paused. This place looked, without a doubt, just plain sketchy. Back home, you'd see all the drug deals and gangs convene around city districts like this, and that always meant trouble. If he were intruding on the territory of druglords or something, he'd be caught without a weapon.

Nate had his rifle disassembled in his backpack, and assembling it out in the open would be too risky and provocative to onlookers. The tall steel-framed warehouses had windows lining the roof… who knows what type of people are stalking him right now. As a means of defense, Nathan pulled his holster out of his bag and strapped it to his right thigh. He also removed his camera and tucked it snugly in a big pocket of the bag, squashed right between his camouflaged fatigues.

The addition of the gun made him feel a whole lot safer as he trekked down the length of the street. But it was also getting a bit chilly, so he pulled on his blue jacket. The blue glistened in the light of the streetlights, and darkened in the shadows in between.

Nathan got halfway down the street before he heard a car's engine humming behind him. He spun around anxiously, only to find himself staring in the face of a common black car. Just a normal driver, nothing to be worried about… but he was in the middle of nowhere. Why would someone drive down the sketchy end of the city?

The concrete walls on each side of the road brightened as the car and it's headlights drew closer to the boy, right up to the point where the car passed him. Strange, the windows were tinted black. What didn't the driver want people to see?

The sound of gunshots pounded Nathan's ears, throwing him off balance and spurring him out of his thoughts. He instinctively threw himself onto the ground, reaching an arm down his leg for the pistol. He scrambled behind a trash can as fast as he could.

He didn't get shot, but the car did. The front tires blew off like a hurricane, causing the car to spiral out of control as the driver panicked. It slammed into a wall to Nathan's left, on the other side of the street. Near the car's crash site was an entryway into an industrial facility, and the gates opened rapidly as soon as the car collided.

"Move it, go!" The scruffy voice of a young adult ordered, and six hooded figures darted out to the scene of the crime. As Nathan pulled his pistol into action, the crooks smashed the window of the car, accompanied with a blood curdling scream. The car alarm blared, but no one was coming to help. Nathan's heart plunged like a rock when he saw someone get pulled out of the new entryway.

"Whh- aaah!" A girl with long blue hair screamed, helplessly flailing against the force of half a dozen men. Two stood back, wielding small submachine gun-like weapons.

"C'mon, c'mon, we don't have all day!" A leader stepped out from behind the corner, ushering the group back inside with the wave of a hand. He held an assault rifle in the other.

He was outnumbered, but he had to act.

He pulled himself up to his feet from behind cover, revealing himself.

"Drop her!" He demanded, scowling through the sights of his gun.

One of the gun-toting men spotted him and raised his weapon in return. "Shit!"

Nathan squeezed off a shot, the bullet slamming into the man's forehead. Unlike what normally would happen, the enemy just screamed in pain, dropping his gun and clutching the impact zone. The other guard was slower to react, but haphazardly fired a burst in anger.

The first rounds pinged off the trashcan, but the soldier swing his arms over to the shooter in an instant and shot twice, one round missing and the other pinging his shoulder, causing him to recoil in pain.

The gunfire alarmed the other kidnappers, who hurried their captive around the corner and into the facility. The leader stepped out into the open and raised his rifle to cover the retreat of his underlings. The sight of the heavy weapon drew Nathan down to his knees like lightning, down behind cover.

The shouting of rifle fire sent Nathan's heart into a beating frenzy. The man's entire magazine emptied out in a suppressive volley, throwing pieces of the street and trashcan into the air. The shrapnel buffeted the teen, but he was still safe, however pinned.

"Get her inside, damnit!" The leader yelped, darting back around the corner in a sprint. The rest of his crew, minus the two the soldier had downed, were already inside the main structure. Obviously they were more startled than than Nathan was, it seemed like they weren't expecting any sort of armed opposition.

Nate pulled down his bag, extracting a pair of 9mm magazines for his gun and shoving them into his jacket pockets. He knew it wasn't the smartest idea, but a single shot would end him no matter if his ammunition was struck or not. He tugged his pack back on, then sprang out from behind his cover. It was an empty street, signs of the brief firefight only being the two men crouched on the ground.

They weren't dead, but from their groans and hisses Nathan could tell they were in pain. His guns did something, at least.

"Hey!" The boy walked up to the two men, bending over to retrieve their weapons. "The fuck are you doing?" He interrogated.

"Fuck you, man." One of them spat, glaring daggers.

Nathan didn't have time for this. He had to get out of here before something happened to the girl, and before the police arrived to question him.

He kneeled down to the same height as the man who spoke, throwing his hood off his head and revealing his face. He had white, spiky hair. Strange to Nathan, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

"How many of you are there?" He asked, calming down his tone.

The white haired delinquent just gnashed his teeth together. Nathan quickly scanned his surroundings to make sure he was safe, then pulled his gun on the enemy.

"How many of you are there?" He asked again.

"Fuck you ma-"

He pulled the trigger and the man howled, clutching his chest.

"There's just us six, just us six, man!" Nate got to his feet and jogged over to the entrance of the facility, not looking back. They wouldn't pose a threat any longer. "Don't fuggin shoot... damn!" The man wailed.

There was no time. He was shooting and took down two of their team. There's no doubt that the remaining three, plus the leader, would be antsy and nervous. Any more shooting or fear would cloud their minds even further, making them act rashly and possibly even lead them into executing the hostage.

At the corner of the entrance, the soldier examined his newly acquired weapons. They seemed awfully like the FN-P90, but it the magazine was in the stock. A bullpup weapon, something Nathan had never used before. It had a useful flashlight mounted on the side, but there was little time for more examination. He inserted his pistol into his holter, pulled the magazine out of the other gun and planted it in a rear pocket of his pants, and dropped the spare weapon onto the ground. He wouldn't need it.

The boy peeked around the corner. Past the entrance was a small abandoned parking lot, and past that was the double doors into the facility. The facility wasn't too tall, maybe two floors tall, but it was wide. Who knows where they could be holed up, but considering that only a handful of minutes have passed, he knew that they couldn't have gotten far.

The straight shot to the facility was the route he'd be expected to take, and there's a chance they have a man set up at the windows on the second floor or right behind the door, waiting for him. Squinting, Nathan peered at the windows above the door.

Nothing, at least nothing that he could see in the dimming light.

 _Screw it_ , he thought, shaking his head, _if they had a guard they'd be shooting already._ Taking his life into his own hands, Nathan sprinted across the open parking lot. He reached the main doors unscathed, but panting faintly.

After resting for a moment, he flicked on the gun's flashlight. In the murky darkness, it shone brighter than the sun. The boy took a deep breath, then heaved the heavy door open. It screeched against the ground, the creaking echoing through the halls of the facility. With the entrance exposed, Nathan peered into the main room, weapon leading the way.

The light scanned the room from left to right, not illuminating a single living thing. The place was dusty and so dark that all light appeared to be strangled. The industrially themed furniture lay scattered and abandoned on the ground, left alone for a long, long time. Nathan's breath shuddered through the room, a visible plume of hot air leaving his lips with each breath.

"GO TO HELL!" A man with an assault rifle raised his arms out from behind a fallen desk, shooting without a target in sight.

 _Shit!_ Nathan pulled back, and hot led sped past him with the force of a train, pinging off the doorframe and whizzing out into the parking lot. _Shit!_

When the shooting stopped, Nathan immediately threw himself around the corner, gun raised. The man was still hiding behind the table, and the clicking of metal told him that he was busy reloading.

With his newfound knowledge, the boy darted for the table, aiming his submachine gun over the edge and into the man's line of sight. Nathan held down the trigger, clenching his teeth as the gun kicked against his forearms and wrists.

The excruciatingly loud bangs silenced, and so did the man's life. Nathan killed someone for the first time, and that line echoed through his head like the ringing of his ears. He just killed someone. He just killed someone.

But it was okay. It was in self defense, right? Right?

Nathan shook his head and told himself to carry on. The adrenaline clouded his mind, and he stayed mission-oriented.

He checked his magazine, pulling it out of the gun and feeling it's weight. It seemed around half-full. He plugged the ammo back in the gun, a grim expression on his face.

Now, where are the other three?

* * *

 **Five minutes ago, machine storage room on the second floor. POV: the kidnapper leader.**

"Dammit Takeshi!" I exclaimed through my teeth. "I thought you said the place was clear! I thought you said that the scene was safe!"

Takeshi, my childhood friend, shrugged with a double-edged dagger in hand. His long hair was black, exactly the same color of the black leather jacket he wore. I anxiously tugged at the collar of my grey hoodie with my left hand, my other hand occupied with clutching onto the family assault rifle, passed down to me by my father and his father before him.

"It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter. We can recover." I repeat, pacing around a long metal table. On it was another assault rifle and a collection of photographs and show posters. All of which featured Leanbox's most famous pop singer, 5pb. And the girl herself cast her own gaze upon her own pictures, horrified.

I take a good look at the blue-haired singer, who happens to be held back by a man I met at the club. At the club, his heavyset appearance earned him the title, "Kilo". No one knows his real name, not even I do. He stands in the corner of the room, grinning like the madman he is. I'm glad I chose the right man for the job.

I step over to the girl, Lyrica, and she squirms in Kilo's sturdy grip.

"Get- get away from me! Let me go!" She stammers weakly, sweating nervously.

"Hey," I kneel down, trying to be reassuring. "Nobody here wants to hurt you. Hey, look up at my eyes." She looks up at my face, but can't stop shaking out of fear. "Nobody wants to hurt you. You know, we're actually big fans of yours."

"Big fans." Takeshi affirms, nodding.

"We wanted to get in touch with you several times, actually. Did you know that?" I ask. "No? I can understand. Busy life, busy days. Makes you take _shortcuts_ , hmm?" In my right hand, I pull a double-edged longsword out of my inventory. It's one of my favorites.

"No, no," She shakes her head, eyes wide. "What do you want? You're… you're the leader, right? You can… can you please let me go?"

"You see, Lyrica, you best stay in the open where you belong. Take shortcuts, shortcuts out where you can be _alone_ , you can get hurt." I pat her on the head. "Don't worry, we're here to help."

Takeshi walks over to my side, and kneels down beside me. He holds his dagger loosely in his grip, lightly tossing it up in the air over and over. "He's right. Nasty stuff out there. You see that kid back there? He could'da killed you. Good thing we were here, right?"

"What? No! Y-you're- the ones who shot at-" I cover her mouth with my hand, and she cringes.

"Hush, you're tired. Just listen now, and you'll be _alright_." I say, keeping my hand on her face. She's disgusted by me… how rude?

"Takeshi, go check up on Hiroshi at the gate. I bet that kid's not giving up anytime soon." I order, and Takeshi nods, giving me a short salute with his dagger before leaving the room.

I step back and take a deep breath, stretching my arms out wide. It's oddly quiet. A good time to talk, a good time to make things right. Make things right for our country. I bring my arms back down and set my attention back on 5pb.

"Geez Lyrica, some kids don't know when to give up. Everyone wants to be a hero," I huff. After a moment of silence, I waltz over to the table and lean back on it, my arms resting on its smooth surface.

I bring one of my hands around and point at the singer. "That's why I wanted to talk to you."

The girl tries to look up at Kilo, but can't arch her head around far enough. She quivers, the futility of her situation finally settling in. I love that look in her eyes.

"Your next performance, it's gonna be after the Victory Parade, yeah?" I say as I slide the tips of my fingers along the smooth side of my sword. It's a cool, almost welcoming touch.

She nods.

"Yeah? So? You gonna do anything special this performance?" I bring my hand around, twirling it as though I expect and answer.

"M-my shows are always special... I don't see what you mean."

 _Hmm_? "Always special? Well, that'd just take the specialness out of it, wouldn't it? Ah, fuck." I frown at her. "I knew this was gonna be just _another_ concert." I lean towards her face, propping myself up on the sword. "And I wanna change that."

The sound of an assault rifle firing at full-auto blasts through the whole facility, followed by a shout. It's Hiroshi, the door guard. I instinctively bring my head around to check the door at the sound of a submachine gun going off, even though I know that the fighting is far from here.

I can't help but get anxious. My heart starts pounding, the severity of the situation closing in. _I gotta scram before the cops get here!_

But I still got business to attend to. Takeshi can handle the kid. After all, he is a natural at CQC.

"Lyrica, I'll make this short. Two choices." I hold my left hand out, a sole finger dangling in front of her nose.

"One: You _intelligently_ agree to show your support for the war on stage." I briskly unfurl a second finger. "Or two: you don't make it to the stage at all. Ever again."

I lean back, glaring at her. "Don't think you can just lie to us. Me and Kilo will be there having a good, good time. Right Kilo?"

He grunts in agreement, giving 5pb's arms a tight squeeze. She grimaces, and furrows her eyebrows. She better make the right decision. I know she will if she knows what's good for her.

"I don't know if you see it from inside the confines of your _car_ , but the people have been losing faith in ourselves. In the war. You can _change_ that, Lyrica. Full people with hope and happiness… that's why you sing, right? Hmm?"

Another burst of submachine fire rocks the facility, along with two more. It's closer this time, and 5pb is on the edge of tears. For such a confident singer, I didn't expect her to collapse so easily.

That gunfire just means that Takeshi got that kid, right? But it's still too close for comfort, and in the distance I think I can hear the sound of sirens wailing. Or that might be my imagination. _Oh jeez!_ Everything feels like it's clamping down around me, the pressure of the approaching deadline and the sickening reluctance of Lyrica to _make a Goddess-damned move._ Just say something already, damnit!

I turn to face 5pb, and I see her shivering and staring into the floor, deep in thought. It's not a hard decision, what's taking her so long!?

"Live. Or. Die. You choose!" I shout, slamming my sword into the ground on the last word.

"K-hyah!" She blurts at the sudden gesture, the fear for her life gripping her by the neck. "I- I-"

Something slams into the door behind me, but the door holds. The knock sends shivers up my spine.

"Kilo, go answer the damn door! I'll take care of her."

An eerie smile slithers onto his lips, and he releases his grip on the girl.

He chuckles heartily, cracking his fingers as he lumbers closer and closer to the door. Lyrica crumbles to the dirty tile floor, breathing painfully.

I plant my sword on the ground as Kilo enters the hall, the door swinging open behind him.

"What'll it be, Lyrica? Support the good fight? Or die a traitor."

I hear Kilo march down the hall, his heavy feet sending vibrations through the room with every step he takes. Up until the steady marching is cut off with the sound of a body collapsing to the floor, I feel relieved.

With that knell, I can't hold myself back anymore. My chest boils over with frustration, anger and disgust. From that feeling, my mouth spits on it's own.

"It's NOT a QUESTION! It's a fucking ORDER!"

My sword clatters onto the ground as I swoop over to her, grabbing her by the shoulders. She shrieks as I push her back into the ground, yelling something even I find incomprehensible. I can't feel anything but rage, and I can't think of anything but her inaction. Why won't she speak? Why won't she do _anything? Who_ _else_ _is yelling?_

And then my back burns hotter than the touch of molten lava. And then I feel something entering my thigh. My sides. My head. My arms.

And then I can't feel anything. I feel numb.

* * *

The petrified singer gasps in horror as her tormentor collapses down on her. Without the strength to scream, she freezes completely but cannot escape her frenzied shuddering.

The shooter drops his weapon to the ground without a care in the world, breaking into a run for the idol. He grips the leader of the criminals by the shoulders and tugs on the body with all his might. The body is dropped to the ground beside the table, an assault rifle laying at his feet.

The boy turns back to the blue haired girl, his blue jacket stained with pockets of red. He kneels down and wraps his arms around her like you would a baby. With a hand behind her head, he brings her in close.

 _She needs to know she's okay._

"Shh…" Nathan hums gently, almost rocking the young adult from side to side. "Take deep breaths."

The girl, taken aback by the sudden act of kindness, hesitates for a moment, but stuffs her head into his chest. Slowly but surely, she gasps for air, her brain finally registering what had happened to her. He embraces the kindness in a daze, taking short, sharp breaths.

"You're safe now." He repeats. "You're safe now."

Those words don't settle in until five minutes pass in a silence that feels like a crime.

Lyrica suddenly wraps her arms around the boy, not as a symbol of love, but as a symbol of understanding. She takes deep, slow breaths out of her mouth, processing.

"It's okay." The boy can't help but shudder a little himself. His eyes are wide open. "It's alright."

Another five minutes pass, and not a single sound can be heard. No sirens, no wails. No gunshots, no streams of blood. No tears, only reconciliation. Only breathing.

"Hey." Nathan loosens his grip on the girl, easing away slowly. Once she stops resisting, the boy soldier slides out of her grip, and 5pb feels cold. "How are you doing?"

Lyrica opens her mouth to say something, but says nothing.

"It's hard." He pauses, and looks into her magenta eyes. "I know how it is."

She gasps silently, and whispers. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She can't bring her eyes to match his.

"You shouldn't feel guilty for something that was completely out of your control." Nathan tries to reassure her.

"No, no," She shakes her head. "It was my fault." Lyrica tries not to cry.

Nathan shifts in his seat, sighing.

The singer continues. "I… I didn't want to go to a fan event… at the last second. I just couldn't, I…"

Nathan scoots closer tentatively, bringing an inclusive arm around the girl.

"I told the driver to take a detour, back to the suite." She begins to choke on tears. "Now… now the driver's dead… they're… dead…"

"There was no way that you could've known."

She sniffs, and her speech is torn. "Yeah… but…"

Lyrica waits for words that won't come.

Silence. A long silence. A thoughtful silence. Silence does wonders to the body.

The boy speaks up, trying to comfort her. "You're 5pb, right? I think I heard of you from a friend."

"M-me?"

"Yeah, I bet twenty bucks that's who you are. Great singer, right?"

"I guess so…"

"Don't put yourself off like that! She said you were the best singer in all of Leanbox. That's gotta mean something, right?"

The faintest shred of a smile gives itself away on the tips of her lips. Nathan smiles.

"You know my stage name…" She smiles, looking down at the ground. "My real name is Lyrica."

"That's a nice name."

"Who are you? I-If you don't mind me asking." Lyrica asks, a little more shy than Nathan is used to.

"I'm Nathan! And it's no trouble at all, don't worry."

"Nathan… thanks for helping me."

"It was nothing." He lied, thinking of how the submachine gun felt in his hands. "Hey, Lyrica, let's go outside. I… don't really like it here."

She nods, and the two people from different worlds help each other to their feet. The two aliens guide each other down corridors, through doorways and down stairs on their journey to the exit. It's cold, it's quiet. It's nice, despite the fact that they walk through the alley of death.

As they near the entrance, the sound of police sirens pierce the night. Nathan freezes, but Lyrica keeps walking.

"Lyrica, I, uh… I gotta go." He says hastily.

She stops. On her face is the look of disbelief. "Huh? What for? The police are here."

"Ehh…" He glances out the open doors, and the flashing red and purple lights of Planeptune's finest reflect off the ground. His heart beats, and he breathes."Just… Just know that I'm not a bad guy. None of us are. None of us were."

"Nathan, what do you mean?" She stands in the doorway, saddened.

The boy opens his mouth to say something, but he can't think of anything. Not when the doors of police cars open and close, and the pistols of policemen are drawn.

He waves once, then turns away. He disappears deeper into the facility, homeward bound into the dark.

Lyrica stands alone in the doorway, staring into the dark. The sounds of rushing feet close in on her, along with the shouts of law enforcement. One policewoman takes her by the hand, shaking her out of her superficial delusion. Others pour into the building, sweeping for hostiles and for criminals.

" _Just know that I'm not a bad guy. None of us are. None of us were."_

 _What does he mean?_

5pb is hurried over to the police cars, ambulances and news vans, surrounded by emergency personnel and police special forces. They came too late, far too late to do any good. The blue-haired singer is brought over to the rear of an ambulance and given a bottle of water. She sits on the edge, and a detective is tasked to question her. The detective wields the weapon of a pen and notepad.

And she speaks, her voice feigning kindness and sympathy. Lyrica stares at the car she crashed in on her way to now.

"You're 5pb, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, that's me."

"Okay… how are you feeling right now? Any aches and pains?"

"My shoulders sting a little…"

"Okay," The detective scribbles something down on her notepad. "So we suspect that you were held hostage inside that building by around six criminals, is that correct?"

"That's correct."

"How did you get out? Who killed the criminals?" She kept interrogating. "Did he wear a camouflaged uniform?"

The singer opened her mouth, but someone else cut her off.

A tall woman in a black combat suit stepped into the scene from the corner of her eye. Her long purple twintails were nearly swept up in the pleasant wind of the night. "Good afternoon, detective. Good afternoon, 5pb."

The detective responded immediately, suddenly adjusting her posture and stepping back. "O-oh! Good afternoon, Lady Purple Heart. What brings you to the scene of the crime?"

"Blatant curiosity, detective." The CPU pointed to a figure behind her, standing with her hands interlocked. "And a naggy neighboring Goddess."

Vert stepped out from behind Purple Heart's shadow, showing genuine concern for the singer.

"Oh dear," She said, reaching a hand out. "Lyrica, are you okay?" She turned to the detective. "We can take it from here, miss."

"Whatever you say, boss." With a sigh, the detective shrugged, walking towards a black police van.

Vert wrapped her hands around her citizen's cold hands. 5pb brought her magenta eyes to Vert's.

"Whatever happened to you in there, it can wait. You've been through a lot, and there's no reason to torment you any more." Vert turned to her fellow CPU, who stood with her arms crossed. "Neptune, do you mind if we bring her to your place for the night? I'd like to stay and take care of her as well, if that is okay with you."

Purple Heart brought a finger to her chin, thinking. It only took her a second of thought to come to a conclusion.

"Think of it as an extension of the olive branch, Vert. We _are_ friends again, no?"

Vert paused for a second, thinking on Neptune's reply. It felt cheap. Fake. But it was still the answer she was looking for.

"Of course." Vert nodded, rising to her feet. 5pb sighed, looking down at the ground once more.

It was going to a long night for the Basilicom.


	9. Dissidents

"How are you feeling, Lyrica?" Vert asks from beside the couch, staring into 5pb's eyes with the concern of a loving mother. "Headaches? Shoulder pain?"

The idol opens her eyes to the bright white living room of Planeptune's Basilicom. It's a curved room, and behind the couch is an expansive wall of tall windows that graciously lets in the early morning sunlight. Behind the blonde CPU is an expensive flat screen TV mounted on a low black table, and tucked in one of the compartments of the table is a purple and black console. To the right of the TV is a door, and even further to the right is a blue-walled kitchen. For pudding, of course- a relic of what once was. This _is_ the home of Planeptune's CPU and CPU candidate after all, and not a place that citizens get to visit often. Looks aren't at the top of the list of concerns.

"I'm feeling a lot better now. Thank you, my lady!" The blue haired girl nodded, rather awkwardly, with her head on a fluffy white pillow and with her body tucked beneath a thin green blanket.

"You mustn't call me Lady, Lyrica. We're friends, there's no need for formalities like that!" Vert chuckled, stepping away from the couch with a smile.

"O-oh! That's A-okay with me." She smiled as well.

"Well," Vert started to speak happily. "Nepgear was so kind as to prepare us all a platter of pancakes, so do come to the table when you're ready." She pointed towards the kitchen, where a dining room table was set up with plenty of confections on display.

"Mhm!" Lyrica acknowledged, pulling herself out of the blankets and off the couch. Once on her feet, she followed Vert into the kitchen.

Accompanied by the scent of delicious dogooberries and pancake flour, Purple Heart herself stood in front of the stove wearing blue jeans and an expensive black and white top. An apron was draped across her front to keep any ingredients from contaminating her garments, and the sound of the two newcomers entering the room startled the CPU. She turned from the sizzling pancakes, a spatula in hand.

"Good morning, Lyrica." She greeted politely, briefly acknowledging them.

"Good morning, Neptune!" Lyrica said with a small wave.

Vert stepped further into the room, stopping behind a chair at the dining table. Her hands rested upon the backrest of the chair as she spoke with a newfound urgency.

"Neptune, where's Nepgear?" Her eyes darted across the room for her favorite CPU candidate. "I know I last saw her in here…"

Purple Heart rolled her eyes, turning back towards the stovetop. "She went to the cafeteria downstairs to fetch some syrup as it turns out we don't have any up here. She also went to tend to our… friday guest." She paused, calmly flipping the pancakes. " _My_ sister will be back soon."

The otaku huffed, crossing her arms. "You could've just left it with where she was…"

5pb shrugged before walking over to a seat to Vert's right. Something about Neptune made her seem less welcoming than she had previously thought she was, and sitting next to her felt like a poor choice.

The Goddess of Planeptune cleared her throat conspicuously, lifting the pan off the stove and sliding it's buttery contents onto a plate stacked with more pancakes. Once the pan was set back down, she effortlessly hoisted the heavy platter off the counter and onto the center of the table, leaving 5pb in awe of the copious breakfast items. _Can we really eat that many pancakes?!_

Purple Heart and Vert slid into their respective seats across the table from one another, and the idol pulled out the chair from Vert's right. Following the Goddess's examples, she sat down and brought her eating utensils to eat. To her, it felt weird eating in the presence of such powerful people. It felt as if every one of her moves had to be carefully calculated and acted out with precision, lest she be judged to the ends of the Earth… err... Gamindustri.

And almost robotically, she began to eat. Without syrup.

Until the shuffling of feet and several "Oh goodness!"es were heard, bringing with them the sight of the lilac-haired CPU candidate bumbling into the kitchen. Understandable, as she carried a hefty plate of red fruit in one hand and a fat bottle of syrup in the other. Not the easiest of tasks, but before 5pb could offer her assistance Nepgear planted the items on the table, panting lightly.

"Oh, good morning Lyrica!" Nepgear addressed between huffs. "Sleep well?"

She rubbed the back of her neck nervously. "Eh, I've slept better."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." The CPU candidate muttered with compassion as she strode around the table, finding herself a spot beside her sister. And that sister, delighted by her presence, found a smile creeping onto her face for the first time all day. "Well… I brought strawberries!"

Using a pair of tongs, Vert curiously reached over and picked up one of the red berries. Holding it in front of her face, she examined it with a vigilant eye. "Strawberries?" She set the strange food on her plate, returning the tongs to the plate. "I can't say I've heard of them. Are they any good?"

"They're delicious!" Nepgear answered happily, reaching over for one. "These ones come from Italy, sent over as a gift from Noire just recently. One of the highlights of the Victory celebration will be a collection of native Earth foods, these new flavors are going to be a hit!"

"Hmm!" The Goddess of Leanbox hummed in satisfaction, dangling the strawberry in front of her nose. "If 'Gear says it's good, it must be good!" She throws the whole thing into her mouth, leaves and all. After a moment of relishing it's sweet and unique taste, she spits it out and onto her plate indignantly.

"Vert, are you okay?" 5pb asked urgently as Vert coughed.

"I don't know if you are supposed to eat the stem…" She sighed as Purple Heart started to laugh. "Hey," She teased. "Stop laughing! I'm being serious!"

After that, they ate in relative silence, occasionally making small talk about nothing important, such as the weather, 5pb's career, and about the new line of cute flip-flops coming out just in time for the summer. Some things about people don't change, and that made Vert very happy. It was almost like old times, back when they fought Arfoire together, saved Rom and Ram from that licking monster, and that time when Neptune wanted to fill a swimming pool full of pudding. It took an extra-long lecture from Histoire about taxpayer money to end her childish antics, but it never was enough to end it in it's entirety.

But now when Vert stares Neptune in the eye, she wonders if her fun was snuffed out for good.

* * *

Once breakfast was drawing to a close, Nepgear sighed, leaning back in her chair. Her plate was empty, excluding the pile of strawberry stems. She was content and felt drowsy with a full stomach, so she closed her eyes.

"That was delicious, thank you!" 5pb placed her utensils on her plate with a satisfaction she hadn't felt in a long time. It felt blissful, it felt like she was welcome here. That was rare. Most of the time she would be hushed around the country in a helicopter, limousine or car. She never had much time to acquaint herself with the locals, get to know their stories and make lasting friendships. She felt that she could count these Goddesses among her friends, and that felt more than fine.

"I'm glad you liked them." Purple Heart responded, patting her mouth with a white cloth. She set the cloth down on the table beside her empty plate before giving the idol a look of expectancy. She wanted something from her.

"Lyrica," The Goddess of Planeptune sat with good posture, folding her hands together on the table. "Do you feel well enough to talk about yesterday?"

Vert immediately reached a comforting arm around to 5pb, giving her a gentle squeeze around her wrist. "Don't feel pressured to say anything," The blonde cast her piercing gaze on Neptune. "No one will ask more than you can handle."

"I'm fine, Vert," Lyrica said with a deep breath. Vert brought her hand back, and Nepgear sat up straight beside her sister, roused by the accelerating conversation. "I'd like to talk about it, too."

"Good." Purple Heart curled her fingers around one of her deep purple braids, fidgeting with it at her chest. "The biggest question on the minds of our security has to come first. Was the person who rescued you wearing a uniform?" The singer tilted her head a bit, slightly confused. "Camouflage?" The Goddess tried to elaborate.

It took no time for 5pb to respond. "No, not at all. Why do you ask?"

"You might not have seen yesterday's news when you got here… we're on the lookout for an enemy agent in Planeptune. Designated as the codename for the first major and inevitable ground infiltration from Earth," She paused to take in a breath of air. "A Spade."

"This agent was collaborating with criminals to bring down our very way of life. Now, did he tell you his name?"

"His name?" She thought out loud. _How do they know that he was a 'he'?_ "Umm… He said his name was Nathan."

"Just Nathan?" Purple Heart questioned. "Nothing else?"

"Just that. The first and only name, nothing more. Did you expect something more?"

"Partially. Our… sources make his name out to be 'Kiowa'. Perhaps we are looking at a first and last name here? Nevermind," She shook her head. "Let's just move on to the next big question."

"What did your kidnappers want from you?"

5pb looked down with a frown. They wanted her to comply or die… and they really were going to kill her. The idol reasoned that it would only do justice to bring their intentions to light.

"They… they wanted for me to say things for them at the concert." She paused, looking away. "About the greatness of the war. They were going to kill me…"

Purple Heart sighed, a little disturbed and shaken at the same time. But nobody in the room could tell she was humbled. "I see." The room lay silent for a while, the questioning drawing to a close.

Outside, the hum of early morning traffic accelerated in the relative silence of the kitchen. Silverware clinked together as Nepgear gathered her dishes together, starting to clean up. Vert took a long sip from her imported Mango juice, another exotic product that she found to be delicious. As she placed the cup back down on the table, 5pb, Nepgear and Purple Heart stood up from their chairs, excusing themselves from the table.

But Lyrica didn't really know where to go. She assumed she would leave now that she had wrapped up her welcome, but Vert waved her hand, beckoning her to the Goddess.

"You're heading out? I have no objections, just be sure not to get lost. If you do… you do have your phone, right? Just call me down. It is a big place, after all." The CPU of Leanbox smiled. "But you're welcome to stay as long as I stay, which might be another hour or two."

"Thanks a lot, Vert!"

Before she could continue talking, Purple Heart interrupted boldly.

"Actually, Lyrica," Both Vert and 5pb turned to face Purple Heart, who was sitting herself back down at the table. "If you don't mind, I'd like you to stay. We're about to discuss something relatively important, and I'd like to know what the common citizen thinks about our high-and-mighty decisions. After all, we do serve the people."

"The people? Me?" The blue haired idol raised an eyebrow. _Do I qualify as the average citizen? Eh, she is requesting it, so I'd assume that she knows._ "O-okay, I don't mind at all."

Vert curled up her lip at this. Obviously she wasn't pleased that her people were so easily intimidated by Purple Heart. If it was intimidation in the first place. Maybe she really did want to stay… but according to the Goddess of Leanbox, that's unlikely.

5pb sat back down, a wee bit anxious. Nepgear sat back down too, not pressured in the slightest.

"So Nepgear," Purple Heart said carefully, nodding towards her sister. "I've heard you recently wanted to take a trip to Earth, yes?"

The CPU candidate shot up at this, a little too jittery. "Oh goodness, yes! I've wanted to go for such a long time now, you haven't got the faintest idea!"

The older sister chuckled. "I'm glad. That's why I'd like you to go over to England and help with Leanbox's occupation. News probably has been... slow, and as much as she'd like to admit it, things have been getting out of hand. That's why Vert has been reluctant to reallocate her armies out of Europe."

Vert's eyes widened. On one hand, she would be more than delighted to have Nepgear, the one and only _adorable_ little sister under her wing, especially so they could both be exposed to all the new things together, for the first time. But on the other hand, Vert was afraid that Nepgear could lose her innocence.

Nepgear had gone to Earth once before, in a decisively short expedition that lasted for a handful of hours. The taste of New England's air in her lungs became a drug to her, and she couldn't help but constantly revisit the one beautiful Atlantic sunrise she saw. It was such a big world, so wide and unknown. She read and watched a lot about Earth, or at least what her sister allowed her to be exposed to.

Good classics such as "Uncle Tom's Cabin", "The Things They Carried", and "Mein Kampf" (She skimmed through that one), among many others like them. But when when her sister wasn't personally monitoring her on her computer, she got her hands on a copy of "The Grasshopper Lies Heavy". The portrayal of Earth's Humans were so different in the romance novel, and the warm and fluffy feelings she felt were so strange to her when in comparison to what she had learned in the past.

Were Earth's people as nasty as she had been told in "Catch 22"? Or were people on Earth more similar to her own people than she had thought? She didn't know. But she wanted to know. She needed to know.

"I don't see why I wouldn't go- ever! When do I get to leave?" The candidate irked excitedly.

"Whenever Vert would like to take you. But I'd prefer if you stay until the parade is over, after all, you've done so much planning already." Purple Heart glared at Leanbox's CPU. "I'm trusting you with the care of my sister. Don't make me regret my decision."

"Rest easy, Neptune. I wouldn't dare let anything happen to her." Vert affirmed.

"Good." The purple-haired Goddess accepted Vert's statement.

Then she reached under the table, setting her fingers on an assortment of buttons. She pressed a red one.

The lights dimmed.

From out of the ceiling, holographic screens were projected out in front of each occupant at the table, displaying a map of North America. They shone blue, and the textures of mountains, forests and water were all being displayed in 3D. Shapes with symbols on them were sprawled out across the map, alongside purple squares. Squares colored jet black, bright white and a deep green represented units belonging to other nations, and dark blue rectangles represented Earth's forces. Purple Heart brought her hands up to her screen and swiped with both hands, causing all four screens to zoom in on the east coast.

"Everyone, everything you see here stays in this room. I'm talking to you, Lyrica." Purple Heart ordered.

5pb nodded, amazed at the quality of the map.

"Noire's grip on Boston is thin at best, and the threat of counterattack remains high, especially from the sea."

A single black square, representing an hovercraft-airborne division, hovered over the depiction of the city. It accurately showed battle scars and individual buildings, along with the American naval fleet offshore.

"Blanc went off on her own the other day, dropping armored forces in the Nova Scotia region. Overnight my intelligence has revealed that this was a bad idea, and despite initial success, the bottleneck into New Brunswick has proven to be an issue."

Vert scoffed. "She's quite aggressive… this proves that she can't be trusted. Not when our future is at stake."

"Maybe she knows something that we don't." Nepgear spoke up. "But if she does, that shows that we need to be a more united force."

"I appreciate the thought, sis," Planeptune's Goddess spoke. "But we know that there is no tactical value to Nova Scotia."

"Maybe she wanted to disrupt Canada's army, divert their forces from reinforcing New Hampshire." Nepgear added.

"She makes a good point." The otaku rubbed her chin. "But she should've told us about this move. Maybe we could have coordinated with her. Her advances into Canada could give us an opportunity to bring our navy into the Atlantic. I've been meaning to do so for a while now."

"I don't see the point in that, Vert." Purple Heart sighed. "There's nothing of value to be found in the oceans. All the Kyanite is on _land_. And if we need to move our forces across continents, it's much easier to teleport them."

"That takes time, energy and resources that we don't have." Vert retorted.

"Everything takes time. Teleporting is quicker."

"In the long run, establishing control over the oceans is going to be very important. It's also not as costly as teleporting is, economically. I only use teleporting to bring my forces onto Earth, nothing more. It's already cost me hundreds of thousands of credits to supply the energy. I'm beginning to wonder if this is even worth the war." Vert paused. "The lives, Neptune."

"The power of Kyanite is more than worth it. Think of it this way, Vert- infinite shares. Do you know how much power you can have? It's a lot."

"Oh, it's about power, now is it? What's happened to you, Neptune? I'm starting to think that you want this Kyanite in order to keep your status alive. All that HDD usage must have an impact on your shares in one way or another."

"I don't need another country's Goddess to tell me what to do." Purple Heart scowled. "The people agree with me. Don't they, 5pb?"

"Me?" Lyrica pointed at herself, not wanting to get involved with Purple Heart and Vert's argument. "I-"

"Neptune! Don't pin this on her, that's just not right."

"Oh, so you're the basis for morality, hmm? So tell me what's right and wrong, why don't you!"

Vert didn't want to continue this any longer. Too much arguing. Not enough unity. This is essentially a war room- petty arguments can wait.

"Neptune, let's wait until after this to fight, please! Didn't we agree not to fight amongst one another again?" She pleaded.

Neptune grumbled to herself, crossing her arms. She didn't want to admit defeat and listen to someone else, but she was mature. She was better than this.

The Goddess of Planeptune took a deep breath, letting the blue glow of the holograms of war wash over her skin. It didn't feel clean.

"Very well. We may discuss this later. For now, I just want to know what the _hell_ Noire was thinking when she landed in North Korea."

* * *

"So this is the drone, huh." Nathan muttered under his breath, kneeling next to a black quadcopter.

His feet was planted on the hard concrete floor of an empty warehouse. The morning light streamed in through murky windows lining the ceiling, illuminating the dust particles that floated through the air.

There really wasn't anything here. No furniture, no boxes, no cargo. The walls were plain, lined by metal girders that provided the building foundation. It was lonely, and his voice echoed across the walls like an empty dream.

But this was home now, and he felt rather confident that this place would be secure against any government eyes and ears. After all, this warehouse as only one among many near the docks. Shipping containers and other miscellaneous materials would normally be kept here, but this one had nothing. No reason to look inside, no reason to find political dissidents were they wouldn't be, right?

In any case, Nathan now had a drone. Last night, after he easily evaded the government, he hunkered down in this warehouse. He contacted the military, gave them an update, and picked up their shipment. This time he got the drone, a pizza from Pizza Hut, a folding chair, and a phone charger. But there were no electrical outlets in the warehouse, and there certainly weren't any outlets that matched the charger's legs.

So that was a little useless.

But it's the thought that counts.

 _Oh, who am I kidding?_

Nathan chuckled to himself as he threw himself down into the folding chair. What was there to laugh about? The fact that he's eating cold Pizza Hut pizza for breakfast? In an alien warehouse?

That wasn't a good enough excuse to laugh. But it was something. At least it felt like something.

He picked up a slice of pizza with one hand, his other hand resting atop the box of pizza. He examined it cautiously, taking it all in. Then he took a bite.

Nathan's eyes wandered over to the drone. It was an expensive drone, did a whole lot of fancy stuff. He didn't read the manual, but he was told that it theoretically could hijack radio waves and allow his traffic to go through, and it could take pictures.

But the catch with the radio attribute was the fact that it had to be right next to a radio's antenna to work. If it was too far away it couldn't override the initial radiowaves.

But that's a story for another time.

Right now is all that mattered to Nathan. Right now, with the pizza. Alone, alone in the warehouse. He plugged in his earbuds, flipping on the iPod that wasn't his. Imagine Dragons.

He didn't feel guilty.

He let himself sink into his comfort.

He felt good.


	10. Memes

The musky light from the warehouse windows blinds me as I recline in a cheap folding chair, pizza box on my exhausted lap. Nothing left but crumbs. I sigh, feeling defeated.

There must be more to life than eating pizza. Hell, I'm living in a world where this is a luxury. Really. I haven't seen a single pizza since I got here. Come to think of it, pizza would make for a really big hit around here. In Gamindustri. Maybe I ought to follow Falcom's advice. You know. Disappear. Start a new life. No one knows who I am, no one knows that I'm not one of the rest. It could actually be pretty easy.

I hold the empty pizza box out in front of me. Pizza Hut. Typically known as the pizza for the 'forever alone', many years ago when rage comics were still a thing. Jeez… It's 2017! Hard to believe it's been so long. Hard to believe so much could change in such a short amount of time. But it did, and that kinda goes to show that anything can happen.

With a gentle flick of the wrist, I fling the pizza box across the floor. It slides for a while with a muffled swoosh, slowing to a stop. Then it's quiet again.

I get that there's a whole world outside those doors. I get that there's a whole land full of adventure, waiting for me behind the heavy, ominous doors of the warehouse. All good things, right? I just can't seem to get myself off my ass. I don't know why. I hate myself. The reasons I give for it aren't good, and I can rebuke each one I throw at myself in an instant.

It shakes me to my core. It surrounds me like storm clouds over Berlin. It ties me down to the chair with the weight of a thousand dead dreams.

I take a deep breath, and the air smells like a toothpick factory. Woody, dusty and stale.

I never really figured out how to get rid of these stupid feelings. My mom, before she passed, always told me that everything would be fine eventually, that I shouldn't think too hard on anything. My best friend, Owen, told me to just ignore it. He was tough, tougher than I was. Tougher than I am. But not tough enough for IF's fist. Even now, with all these guns and training and hardening, I can't do jack shit.

I did kill those men yesterday. I killed them for real, my hand, my wrist, my fingers my knife. Their blood. Their faces, scared, angry, disbelief. My face, a stone. My face, full of controlled aggression. Each movement to kill, to silence, to end. I still feel my finger on the trigger, my grip on the knife, and now it still feels surreal. If this is the army, if this is my world now, I want no part of it. But I don't get a choice.

Another sigh, and I rest my chin on my right palm. I reassure myself by saying that everything was out of my control. And it really was. Nothing that I could've done would've saved my mother. Nothing that I could've done would've saved Owen.

For the future, for the future things can be better. Next time I meet IF, things will be different. Things won't be the same. And she will be _enlightened_.

I'm not afraid. Not anymore.

At least, that's what I think.

* * *

On my left, sitting calmly on the stone floor, lies the drone. It's a black quadcopter with a little ball beneath the center for the camera.

That drone has a purpose. Not specifically for spying or taking pictures, but for today's objective. Or rather, my job for the next week or two.

The folks back home mentioned a big project a few days ago, but I didn't realize how big until now. Last night, when they ordered me to start up Operation Vigilante Belligerence, I vehemently disagreed- mentally. The creation of Radio Free America. A news program with a dumb name, made just for Gamindustri. Run by the US government. I don't see how anything could go wrong here. And yes, I'm being sarcastic to myself.

I didn't get any real guidelines on paper or anything. Rather, they just told me to tell the truth and nothing more. Win the hearts and minds of all of Gamindustri. Which is good, don't get me wrong. But to do so I need to override all the damn radio waves in the city. And I don't see myself as much of a charmer. In the end, Operation Vigilante Belligerence would just really jump start the operation to take me down.

Despite the education given to me in Psywar, this feels absurd. No, this is absurd. I'm alone with no experience, and I'm not even a real soldier. At least I don't consider myself to be one.

But orders are orders. That's what they want me to do, and if that's the best thing I can do here, so be it. They know more than I do about the grand strategy situation, and it's not my place to disagree.

I stand up, briskly brushing the pizza crumbs off of my blue jacket. After a moment of hesitation, I pick up the drone. It's pretty damn big, but light for it's size. It should connect with my cell phone with the handy-dandy app graciously provided.

I pat my right pocket to reassure myself that my phone is still there. And it is, much to my delight.

The physical requirements are all here. And as for the stuff that I'll be saying, I guess I'll wing it. Start off with the local weather, maybe move on to the weather across the States, then I can get onto bigger and better things. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

And as for today's mission? I should find a good antenna, a strong one with enough power to fuck up everyone's connection across the world. That in itself will be a challenge.

I set the drone back down on the ground. My stuff should be safe here, after all, who the hell is going to break into an abandoned warehouse?

Just to be safe, I stuff my chair, backpack and drone into the corner of the building, behind a collection of misshapen boxes.

Now, for my scouting mission.

* * *

The sun hangs high in the sky, high above the suburban buildings and city skyscrapers. The Basilicom taunts me in the background, the tip of the spire glaring daggers everywhere I go. Kinda like that evil glowing eye from The Lord of the Rings. Ominous as hell.

To begin my journey, I climbed to the top of the warehouse. It was a bit chilly up there, and my bare hands stung when I used them to pull myself up a metal ladder. The view was pretty great, and from the edge of the building I could see an ocean of industry- warehouses, smokestacks, steam bellowing up into the sky. A building two blocks to my right was a game console factory, and during the daylight hours I can see trucks loaded with the finished product drive into the inner city, seeking their retail outlets.

I didn't see any big antennas or radio towers from there, except for one. There was a single massive antenna atop the roof of a behemoth of a skyscraper. That building was silver with multicolored highlights, and the sunlight shone brightly off it's gleaming windows.

With no other target in mind, it seems like that will be my base for Operation Vigilante Belligerence.

With the wind at my back, I set off for the skyscraper.

How the hell am I going to get up there?

* * *

The American Midwest is a quiet place. You never hear about it in the news all that much.

Even now, in the middle of foreign invasion, things are very quiet. The tide of conflict has yet to reach the breadbasket of America, but that could change as easily as the wind. And the people of Kansas knew it.

A small homestead on the prairie housed the Kempton family. A family of five- husband, wife, son and daughter. And grandpa. But grandpa lives in the shed next to the big barn, and no one really gives grandpa much attention.

Mr. Kempton was a simple man. He and his family kept to themselves in a small farming community, where they raised pigs and grew corn. Today was fairly cold, as it was January, and the planting season wouldn't start for another couple of weeks. Life was as normal as it could be, with the pleasant exception that food was much more valuable because of the fighting going on in the coasts. The agriculture business was booming, and Mr. Kempton liked it.

His wife was out of town right now, and his kids were playing out with the neighborhood kids. He had the house all to himself- grandpa never really left the shed.

But today was different.

Today, Mr. Kempton was reclining in the living room with a beer in hand. He hadn't had much time to relax recently because of the kids, and this moment of solitude was just what he needed.

But then he heard the back door crash open. Coupled with the firm stomps of leather boots on the hardwood floor, Mr. Kempton knew grandpa had come inside.

"What's going on, dad?" The bulky man shouted, taking a sip from his beverage.

"My boy, you won't believe it!" Grandpa stumbled into the living room, babbling nonsense. "The pigs have gone crazy! I checked it out of course, but I couldn't make heads or tails of any of it… get the gun, get the gun!" Grandpa shuffled to the window, drawing open the curtain and peering out to the barn.

Mr. Kempton was not happy to be roused from his alone time. And he had just cracked open this one, to boot!

The man begrudgingly got out of his chair, and set his beer down on the armrest. He shouldn't be up for long, grandpa is going senile after all. That's not always a good thing, but the kids think it's a bit funny, and Mr. Kempton is fine with it.

With a sigh, the man walked to the mantlepiece to pick up the family shotgun. Pump action, 12 gauge. Kept the coyotes away for years, making it a keeper of a weapon.

Mr. Kempton then made his way to grandpa, who stood impatiently by the door.

"Well, pops?" The adult sighed. "What's it this time?"

"This is bad news bears," the old man pushed the door open and stepped into the backyard, proceeding to guide his son to the barn. "Pigs got some new parasite or something- you won't believe this- big blue bug blobs."

As the man stepped outside, he shook his head. "Pops, I don't need this nonsense."

"But it's true!" Grandpa pleaded, tugging on Mr. Kempton's wrist. "I heard them oinking like crazy last night, and this mornin' I saw them blue blob bugs staring me down like I was a platter o' home cooked supper!"

"Alright, alright," The younger man shrugged off the elderly man with ease, holding the shotgun with a single hand. "Let me take a look." He sighed, stepping into the open doors of the barn.

"Watch the walls!" Gramps called out. "They're in the walls!"

Whatever. Mr. Kempton thought. Must be those damn beavers from down the river.

The barn stunk like pig. Disgusting pig manure, pig food, pig slop and all other nasty pig smell. It was a dark barn, and the only light for the building came in through the entrance or through holes in the ceiling.

Mr. Kempton dragged his feet across the stale hay covering the cement floor, and the barn was silent. He stepped over to a nearby wall to try and turn the lights on, but they didn't work no matter how many times he flipped the switch. Strange. Rats must've chewed out the cords.

But the barn was silent. No pig noises. There was always some sort of pig noise going on. How peculiar.

Mr. Kempton frowned. Something really wasn't right. Maybe grandpa was right about the blue blob bugs. But if he was, he should be seeing the blue blob bugs, right?

The man held his shotgun with both hands as he stepped further into the dark.

"Hello?!" He called into the darkness. "If someone is in here, come on out! I'm not afraid to utilize mah second amendment rights!"

No answer. So there isn't a burglar. It could be the kids, they always mess aroun-

A streak of movement in the rafters above the Kansas man caught his eye. What was that?

He leveled the shotgun towards the ceiling.

No scurrying noises, but he could hear footsteps behind him. Wait, footsteps?

"THEY'RE COMING OUT OF THE WALLS!" Grandpa, who stood behind his son, holding an M1911 pistol, shouted at the top of his aging lungs.

And the adult jolted his weapon around, trying to get a bead on the sudden swarm of blue slithering across each and every surface.

"DIE ASSHOLES!" Gramps aimed his pistol at the wall and fired twice. Something blue and slimy was struck, and fell to the ground. It's body was like that of a bean-bag, and it had dog like features all over it.

Grandpa shot it a third time, and it splattered into shards of color. No physical body remained except for the goo it trailed behind.

"Dogoo! Dogoo!"

"Pops, what are these things!" Kempton asked, trailing a blue blob with his gun. But in that moment he recognized them from the newspaper. They were Dogoos, some alien monster hell-bent on killing people, especially women.

"AHHHHH!" Grandpa screamed, shooting and missing another one as it scampered across the rafters. "KILLEM ALL, BOY!"

The adult didn't hesitate to fire his weapon at a group of three darting across the farm floor. Two instantly shattered into pixels, while the last one jumped at grandpa.

"MOTHER OF GOD!" He croaked, dropping the pistol as the Dogoo latched onto his left arm. "Jesus CHRIST son of a BITCH this HU-"

Panicking, Mr. Kempton fired his gun at the Dogoo. The slime monster died, but so did grandpa's arm.

"Shit shit shit!" He cried out, almost dropping his shotgun. "D- Dad, get inside and all the cops!"

"I can't HEAR YOU!" Grandpa replied, clutching his bloodied arm. "Speak LOUDER!"

"CALL THE COPS!"

"Fuck!" The old man agreed, leaving a trail of blood as he hurried inside.

What a trooper, not even caring that half his arm is gon-

Mr. Kempton was pulled out of his internal dialogue when he spotted a duo of dogoos start to rush him from the left.

He briskly pumped his weapon and fired once, then twice. Both dead, and now there were two puddles of slime on the wall.

This place isn't safe. Not now, not earlier. He's gotta get out of here!

"Daddy, what's going on?" Mr. Kempton's son walked into the backyard, his sister behind him.

"Get your sister and grab as many guns as you can, put them on the table right now!"

The young boy's eyes widened. "Even the big ones in the hallway?"

"Yes! All of them!"

"The little ones in my room too?" Mr. Kempton's 6 year old daughter asked.

"All seventeen, put them all on the table!"

The children nodded, rushing inside with glee.

Mr. Kempton turned around, pumping his shotgun.

He could hear them, those dogoos, out in the barn.

"GET OFF MAH PROPERTY!" He shouted, raising his weapon.

* * *

When the sheriff pulled up at the Kempton residence, he was ready for anything. He knew what a dogoo infestation meant- somewhere nearby those Gamindustrians had landed. These monsters aren't natural, and only come over to Earth by hitching a ride with the enemy.

And taking the proper precautions, the sheriff had called the national guard, the mayor, and the governor. The army would be here in minutes, at most twenty. The Army is always ready in wartime, that was the president's promise starting last week.

The sheriff pulled up in front of the Kempton house to the sound of gunshots. Machine guns, heavy caliber rifles and shotguns along with the sound of a chainsaw?

The sheriff rushed out of his car seeing how urgent the situation was. He didn't dare forget his shiny revolver or plain M4 rifle.

The law enforcer sprinted to the house after successfully hopping the white picket fence, and turned the corner at once, dashing to the backyard.

The sight of the backyard of terrible. Blue goo stained the once green grass, smearing the lawn in a shade of disgusting purple. A few windows had a dozen weapons pointing out of it- mainly rifles and shotguns, but the sherif spotted a Browning 50. Cal heavy machine gun firing in bursts.

This was way over his pay grade, but stepped into the fray anyway. Skirting along the house, he ducked down beside a window.

This window had the 50. Cal sticking out of it, and manning it was a very young girl. Maybe in elementary school or even kindergarten. But that didn't matter to the sheriff right now, not while his adrenaline rushed through his heart to the beat of heavy metal.

The girl stopped firing as soon as the sheriff poked his head up to the window.

"Excuse me miss, do you know where I can speak to your father?" He asked kindly.

"Umm… daddy says not to talk to strangers." She responded gently.

"I'm a policeman, not a stranger."

"Daddy says to be careful of policemen and tyrannical government figures."

The sheriff scoffed, smiled, then looked up at the girl again.

"I think your grandfather called for me, he said he got hurt bad."

"Oh, grandpa? He's lying on the couch."

"Okay, thank you…" The sheriff trailed off as he stood up, heading for the back door.

It would be a while before the ambulance arrived to help out grandpa as the hospital was almost thirty minutes away. The sheriff was decent at treating wounds, and as a first responder, it was his job to help the public in any way he could.

The back door turned out to be locked, so he clambered back to the little girl, who was back to shooting into the barn.

He waved at her, and she stopped shooting.

"I need to get inside, can you go unlock the back door or is it okay if I climb through here?" He didn't want to spook the child because she has a gun.

"Umm…" She didn't respond. Doesn't look like she's very good with words or giving orders.

"I'll just climb in through here, can you scoot a little?"

"Okay…" The girl got out of the way, and the moment that she did, the sheriff climbed in through the window.

The sheriff thanked the girl for her support before moving seeping into the building. The living room was right in front of him, and there was grandpa, lying on the couch.

A couple kitchen towels were tied up around his left arm, soaking up blood. A few were already full of the sickly red liquid and sat on the ground.

When the sheriff kneeled down beside the couch, he instantly knew that grandpa would not be living for much longer.

What could he do?

The sheriff looked around him for anything he could use to slow the bleeding, but there was nothing. All the rags were already draped over the arm.

"Hey grandpa," the sheriff said. "How you feeling?"

"Eh," He responded angrily, "I felt worse back in 'Nam."

"Geez, I'd love to know about that. You were in Vietnam?"

They talked for a while, the beat of gunfire draping a suitable backdrop of the two. It had been a long while since grandpa had anyone to talk to, and it's been ages since he had anyone interested in him start up a conversation. For once, for the first time since he last saw the smile of his mother, he was truly happy. Ironic, the sheriff thought, for one of his happiest times to be his last.

Grandpa bled out before people were finished with lunch in the town next door.

The sheriff let go of Grandpa's right hand, not even knowing he had taken hold of it in the first place.

It felt funny. Not a good funny funny but a strange kind of funny.

But everything was like that now, wasn't it?

* * *

It's almost eight at night now. The streetlights have long since flickered to life, and the endless fields of wheat and corn are dipped in the early light of the moon. Several hours have passed since the barn was locked down by the national guard- an armor brigade.

If there really was a dogoo infestation, it had to be shut down before it could spread any further. Whole cities in Europe had fallen to the monsters, who had spread so rapidly no one could hope to contain them.

And that wasn't the biggest threat. At least the monsters were an enemy both Gamindustrians and the people of Earth fought.

But if there were dogoos, there had to be an invasion or incursion nearby.

But why here? Why now? There was nothing of strategic importance in Kansas, there was nothing of tactical value.

But there was a large deposit of precious minerals nearby.

The big shots in the Pentagon would look into the reasons why. Captain Christopher Chappell was a little occupied at the moment, scanning the distant countryside with thermal vision in his AC-130 gunship.

He was given the green light to engage anything that wasn't of Earth origin in the area, and whatever constituted as alien was up to him to decide.

"Hey, check right about 45 degrees, I'm getting a thermal spike along the side of the hill." His assistant said, tapping Chris on the back.

Captain Chappell panned the screen to the location his assistant designated. And sure enough, there was something along the tree line.

A black-cold group of entities was moving slowly towards the north, where the Kempton property stood.

It definitely didn't look human. It didn't move like animals should.

That thought process was all that was needed.

"I'm going to engage the group of unknowns with the 25mm. Looks like dogoos."

"Affirmative…" Chris's assistant hummed, jotting down the time that the engagement started on his computer.

Captain Chappell lined up his weapon with the cluster of black dots. He was certain these weren't human.

He squeezed the trigger of his stick tightly for two seconds. A stream of death streaked at blistering speeds into the dogoos in the dirt. Trees, goo and stones were chewed up like trash, and then the ground was silent.

Bits of dogoo sat in the mud, a shower of pixels leaping into the sky.

"Good hit on that one, I see nothing left." The assistant complimented. "Hold up, one sec."

The assistant flipped on his radio headset, and spoke with the man on the other end.

The hum of the gunship's engines was comforting to Chris. He felt at home up in the sky as opposed to the ground, where everyone was merely a speck of white in someone's crosshairs, if not his.

"Alright," The Captain's assistant pulled himself over to Chris. "We're going to be flying angels fifteen at bearing 200 now, I'm adjusting scan range to accommodate… now."

"Ground forces want us as eyes in the sky, they think they found the enemy command ship." The assistant continued. "If it is, it's going to be guarded with everything they've got. That's why we have two platoons of Abrams tanks spearheading the IFVs behind them deploying infantry and clearing it out. In short, watch for friendlies."

"All good, I got it." Chris nodded, stretching his back in his seat.

They flew for ten minutes, ten minutes where the enemy dug in and the stars came out. Armored vehicles raced across the endless fields of grain, churning up lines of fertile soil. And the jet-black gunship slowly descended into a holding pattern around the site. And sure enough, a long, elaborately designed hovercraft sat itself down in a grove of trees, creating a massive clearing around it.

"Alright, I've got the friendlies to tag themselves with with IR strobes, you should be able to identify them by their shape to begin with but hey, anything to make your life easier." The assistant cleared his throat. "Anyways, Cavalry Scouts just spotted an overwhelming number of enemy armor moving to intercept our boys. Looks like Lastation tanks judging by the design."

"Yeah, I can tell." Chris said, noticing the distinct double-cannon armament Lastation was known and feared for. "I'm going to stop them here- I think I see infantry dug in foxholes by the woods as well. Confirm this for me as I engage."

"I hear ya," The assistant smirked, typing on his computer. "You're already clear to-"

A devastating blast of the 105mm cannon rocked the aircraft, almost throwing the assistant off balance.

"Damn, I get that I talk a lot... but that's just rude."

Chris just smiled as his shot landed directly atop the lead enemy tank, crushing it immediately and kicking up massive clouds of dust.

He swapped to the 40mm and aligned his sights on another Lastation tank. These things are tough nuts to crack, tanking almost ten shots before finally being disabled.

He fired the gun, each shot delivering a powerful recoil to the aircraft. They collided with a second tank, it's crew helpless to do anything in return. Once five shots were expended, he switched to the 25mm to finish off the tank.

The group of enemy armor started to scatter, reacting poorly to the AC-130's sudden appearance.

"Hey Chris, priority target, enemy mobile AA to the west just showed up, it's on the road beside that cluster of houses-"

"I see it," The Captain fired the 105 howitzer at the threat, and before it could fire a single shot it erupted in a sea of flames. "Gone."

"Nice work, go check back now, our armor is in contact with the enemy."

Chris Chappell panned the camera back to the fight. And a fight it was: the flat ground and patches of trees make for the perfect ground for a tank skirmish.

But this wouldn't be a fair battle. Not when Chris was in the sky, and the enemy were but white dots.

He turned the 105mm cannon on his first target.

* * *

It's getting close to midnight in Boston. Snowfall had ceased long ago, but the debris and bodies were still covered in white. A blanket of purity and innocence, that's what Noire saw it as.

The Goddess of Lastation sat with her legs cross on a bench in the Boston common. Around her neck was a fluffy white scarf, and in each one of her hands was a black tail. Her eyes were locked on the frozen lake in front of her, deep in thought.

The world was drenched in darkness, but the streetlights illuminated much of the park, even now.

 _What would this place look like, what would it look like if we were never here? Could I see people, walking hand in hand, as if life had just gone on? Did I make a mistake?_

 _Jeez. I shouldn't have to think about this. This was supposed to be simple. This was supposed to be a war of liberation, to bring Gamindustri into a new age and these… are they really savages? No. These people into a new age. At least, that's what I thought._

A hurried pair of feet broke the silence, crushing snow underfoot as the sound of footsteps got louder and louder.

"Lady Black Heart, I have an urgent message-"

"What are you standing around for?" Noire snapped, then took a deep breath. "Please give it to me."

The woman, who was a ranking soldier, handed Noire the letter before swiftly departing.

Disheartened, the CPU cut open the envelope. It was from Uni. Uni, of all people. Why couldn't she just call?

She pulled the letter out of the envelope, curious and worried at the same time. Even before she started reading, she knew something was wrong. The handwriting was not right. More scribbles than words, Noire read on.

 _Dear Sis,_

 _I don't want to say anything to your face, not after everything I've seen. I don't really know how to say this, but I'm done. Please don't be angry with me or anything, but I just can't handle what we're doing anymore._

 _The handwriting got worse._

 _I'll come back later, I just need some_

 _Time - -_

 _Time to think._

 _If I end up doing something you and the country would hate me for, please understand, please. I'm not working against other humans anymore._

 _Love, Uni_

Noire let her arms drop to her legs. The letter hung loosely in her fingertips, the gentle wind threatening to rip it away at a moment's notice.

It's cold.

Cold and lonely.

Maybe… maybe I need some time to think as well.


	11. Inadvertently

"Go fuck yourself, asshat!"

A young man cried out in protest as he was tossed into a dark, featureless cell. His body flailed on the ground for a moment before he struggled to his feet, revealing his face to the light of the hallway.

His face was ragged, and it was obvious it's been awhile since he last shaved. By the looks of it, it seems like someone had tried to give him a haircut but gave up partway through, giving him a very scruffy and aggressive look. He wore a clean pair of jeans and a light-green jacket, both of which did not originate from Gamindustri.

"You see, your behavior right now is the reason we moved you down here."

A female guard dressed in all black rolled her eyes, grasping the door handle in preparation to close it.

"The fuck!?" The guard started to shut the door, and it creaked as it dragged along the metal ground. "Hey, don't shut me here in the dark!" The boy demanded with a flash of fear, tensing his fists.

"Welcome to solitude, Owen." She sighed, pausing without emotion. "Seems like the CPUs got tired of your shit."

"My shit?! My shit?!" He gasped angrily, appalled at the accusation. "What the ass-cheese?"

The guard started to close the door on him again, but Owen lunged forward, catching it.

"I didn't do nothin! Hear me out, hear me out, alright?" He scrambled for words, holding back the door.

"H-hey! Let go right now!" She snapped back, grabbing the door with both hands. Her eyes widened as she was shaken awake.

"Nepgear said that she'd tell me if I was fucking up. She did, I swear! Don't put me down here, don't you fucking do it!" He spat. "Not again, I swear I'll behave, just give me another chance!"

"I-" The guard looked to her left and right to find someone to help her, but she was alone in the featureless hall. Owen had a knack for trying to escaping and causing trouble, and earlier today he was found carrying one of Nepgear's personal combat robots. What he was doing with her invention, the Basilicom guards were still trying to figure out.

This guard knew it would be a terrible idea to house Owen with the Goddesses of Planeptune. Purple Heart said it would be fine, but time and time again she was proven wrong. Owen was never going to be a pet, and he made that clear from the start, when he immediately tried to escape from the hospital he was revived in. He had just woken up and was in no shape to move. Hell, the few Planeptune soldiers that were given the revival medication couldn't move for days! That first incident indicated that the guard would have to double their efforts to not only protect the Basilicom, but to keep a tempermental guest inside.

It seems as though that's become quite a challenge.

"I-I-!" The guard stammered, too focused on holding the door closed to call for help.

Owen growled, letting go of the door and stumbling backwards. His hands were so wet from sweating, he knew it wouldn't be reasonable to keep fighting. He placed his hands on his knees, panting as he stood hunched over.

The cell door slammed shut, drowning all light from the room and leaving Owen drenched in nothing but the void.

He snarled to himself, squeezing his legs. He hated giving up. And the past four weeks were nothing but a montage of surrender. Ever fiber of his vein wanted to scream, to clench his chest with the fire he desired to throw at anyone and everyone and yell all his heart out clean.

He couldn't. His throat was too dry, and all he could let out was a dull cry. The boy pressed his right hand onto his face, not wanting to think anymore.

So much loss.

With tremendous effort, he stopped snarling. He put himself back to his feet, hating himself. Owen sauntered to the hollow metal slab supposed to be his bed, and collapsed on it. He had been here once before because he had told Histoire she was an asshole faggot during dinner.

He didn't regret it- it came after she said that Gamindustri's forces have taken Boston, the city closest to his home. And before that, she said that the defeat of humanity was all but certain, and even before that, Purple Heart shared the good news that he would be the main attraction at some retarded-ass parade in a few days.

Owen was surprised that he had so much self restraint to hold himself back until then. Usually he just blurted whatever came to his mind, good or bad. Seems like Gamindustri changed him. His old friend Nathan would've told him that was for the best.

Too bad he's dead now. At least, that's what IF told him. And why not trust the person that literally killed you and brought you back to life, just to keep you as a pet in the home of his tormenter?

Death wasn't an escape. But if he could fuck himself up so badly his pieces couldn't be called "pieces", there might be a chance he could stay dead.

Owen smirked, reaching down to his right shoe and pulling out a simple remote control- the one for Nepgear's personal robot. She was a fool for trusting him. Ever.

Owen wanted to go into the engineering field for a career, and the skills he learned through his school years would finally serve a purpose. He smirked, letting the simple rectangular device roll around in his palm.

It was a mistake to ever let him into this building. Being put into solitary was a minor setback, he could get back to the plan in no time. The guards were a joke. The Goddesses were a joke. This whole situation was laughable.

First he had to get out of solitary confinement- he had done it once before and he could do it again. Second step would be to grab Nepgear's robot from her living quarters near the top floor, which would also be easy as absolutely everyone in the Basilicom is a pushover and would let him run free.

Getting past the guards would be a joke as they were not allowed to hurt him before the parade.

Once he had his hands on the robot, he would fight his way to the armory. At this point the whole damn guard would be ordered to shoot to kill but that's irrelevant- they suck dick.

At the armory the explosives would come in handy. He didn't exactly know if there were bombs down there, but at times like this leaps of faith are acceptable. Fuck it, he thought to himself. Even if they revive me again I'll be sending them a message and have fun while I'm at it.

Owen stood up, stretching his arms out wide. Just thinking about what he was about to do spun his heart into beating out of his chest at the speed of a bullet train.

For three whole weeks he had been kept a prisoner with no possibility of escape- not by running or by death. Now was his moment to flip the balance of power on it's head.

With a single fluid motion, Owen tucked the remote in his back pocket. With his hands free, the boy crept to the door, kneeling at the corner.

Using his sense of touch to guide him in the darkness he found the doorframe. Owen's fingers scrambled for the exposed hinges of the door until he found them.

There are two screws on each of the two hinges that held the heavy metal door to the wall, and you'd think that they'd be really difficult to get through considering this is essentially a prison. On the contrary, for the first time Owen escaped he had used his fingernails to unscrew each screw, leaving the tips of his fingers blistering in pain by the end of it. But he had still gotten through them, and broken out of the best security Planeptune had to offer.

That was sarcastic- this cell isn't near the best of what was offered by Planeptune. This was just a cell inside the Basilicom and not a prison cell. But Owen knew he wouldn't have to face those hardcore cells, and could rest easy.

This time he came prepared with an extra tool, a video game disk. One of Purple Heart's old favorites, just to spite her. It was the only thing that had an edge that resembled the head of a screw and could be hidden in someone's pants.

The boy swiftly retrieved the item, snapped it in half and used the edge to unscrew the exposed joints.

One…the first screw clanged against the floor.

Two… this screw Owen caught with a free hand before setting it on the ground.

He stood up to reach the next two.

Three… four…

And now the door was loose enough to pull off. Only took him a minute. Laughable.

Owen grabbed the edge of the door and jerked it as hard as he could. Of course the door was still locked, but only at one point- by the handle. If he applied too much tension it would break.

Owen kept thrusting against the door, grunting with each attack.

 **K-CLANK!**

With one last push, the whole door snapped, flying off it's spot with an awful crash. When it collapsed to the ground, the deafening sound of metal-on-metal rang out through the halls, echoing terribly. Owen cringed at the sound, but still darted out of the room and into the empty hallway.

The walls were draped in a plain white coating, illuminated by a row of light bulbs running down the center of the hall. Down the line there were several doors, three of which were similar to his own. At the end of the hall was the lone exit- Owen didn't waste any time running for it. His heart was pumping adrenaline as if there was no tomorrow.

His feet stomped on the hard ground as he passed by one door, two doors, three-

"Hey you, yeah you!"

A rough female voice penateated the hard metal door of the third room. A person?

Owen slowed to a halt, completely captivated by the voice. He stepped back, all the way to the door in question.

"Yeah, it's me," Owen said to the unknown speaker. "Who the hell are you?"

"It's Arfoire. The rat in the other cell is Warechu."

Owen heard a second voice from the room next door, but it was too faint to make out any words. A rat named Warechu? And someone named Arfoire, what did they do to get in here? Why did he care what happened to them? He needed to get the hell out of here before the guards started fucking with him like they always do.

"You're Owen, right? I hear the guards talking about a third guy all the time. But listen here, kiddo. If you can break us outta here, we'll help you out with busting this damn joint." Arfoire paused, and Owen kept listening. "Also, there's a chance that we can fight back, I know an Earth guy who can help you out."

That was interesting. Of course, all offers tend to be interesting, but how could he be sure she was telling the truth? This could really screw up his plan… but revenge? That thought felt good. That could be just the thing he was looking for. But then again, trust was an issue. Would she just abandon him if he rescued her?

"C'mon kid, we don't have all day here!" She said impatiently.

Eh, he thought. Might as well make the CPU's lives harder. Shouldn't take much effort.

"Alright, gimme a sec." Owen affirmed. "I'll be right back."

To open the door from the outside he would have to get the key, which unfortunately he didn't have. It should be on a guard.

The security room was just down the hall, but they were always lazy and incompetent. It shouldn't be that hard to take it down… but he would need a bit of luck. One guy he could handle. Any more would be bad.

Owen cracked his knuckles as he stepped down to the security room. Shrugging, he knocked on the door. This can't work out right.

But, much to Owen's surprise and delight, the door opened.

Without much of a care, he stepped inside.

"Gee, Hiroshi, that was fast. You got my beer already? Just put it on the table, I'm in the middle of a game right now."

 _Uhhh…_

The room looked like a college dormitory rather than a security room. There were bunk beds in the corner and a computer next to it. Trash and dirty clothes covered the ground, and a signed picture of Black Heart sat atop the wall above the computer.

A man with expensive headphones on sat lazily in an office chair, tapping rapidly on a keyboard. He was in the middle of an intense game of some MMO, which worked to Owen's advantage.

After briefly looking around the room, he picked up a dirty sock and a heavy anime figurine off a shelf, stuffing the figure into the sock.

Armed with his weeb-wrecker weapon, he tensed up, bringing the sock to attention.

 **SMACK!**

Owen swung his makeshift weapon as hard as he could, straight into the side of the guard's head.

The guard, knocked out instantly, collapsed over the keyboard. With his head stuck on the spacebar, his character started jumping over and over again, confusing his teammates.

The keys to the cells weren't hidden at all, and were quickly picked off the guard's table.

As Owen turned around to exit, he stopped dead in his tracks. Someone's worried voice rang out.

"Hey Hikan, I think someone just escaped… Purple Heart's gonna fuck us up big time, man… I got your beer though." He entered the room, and spotted Owen. "Hold on a second! Who might you-"

 **THWACK!**

As soon as the guard gave him an opening, Owen was free to use his sock smacker once more. The man crumpled to the ground, not quite knocked out but squirming in pain. The beer he held smashed into the ground, spilling all over him with glass flinging across the floor.

There's no way Owen's luck would last him much longer.

He stepped over the man's body, past the beer and into the hall. From there he ran to Arfoire's cell and threw the key in the lock.

It unlocked quickly and smoothly, and the woman stepped out. She smelled pretty bad, wearing some farmer getup- overalls and a plaid t-shirt. That didn't look at all appropriate on her, and Owen couldn't help but let out a laugh.

"What?" Arfoire said defensively. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing... nothing." Owen quickly took a deep breath and pulled the key out of the lock, moving for the next door with the Warechu guy in it.

Arfoire raised an eyebrow when she saw the sock weapon, but kept her mouth shut.

"Alright," Owen said happily as the next door swung open. "Let's get the hell out of here." He turned to Arfoire. "Do you want me to lead or do you know the way out?"

"You lead, once we get out I'll take us to safety."

Owen nodded, feeling okay with the current plan of action.

"Hey, don't forget about me, chuu!" Warechu hopped out of his cell, glad to finally be freed. "I'm not that irrelevant, I think…"

"Oh shut it you damn rat!" Arfoire snapped, smiling slightly. "Can't you tell we're in the middle of talking?"

"Yeah, but I don't care. I'm an active participant with this stuff, don't count me out!"

Arfoire rolled her eyes, elbowing Owen knowingly. "He's always as annoying as this. Let's just get out of here, I'm aching for some fresh air."

The boy started for the exit, the Gamindustrian natives in tow. To Owen it felt weird to trust someone again, especially since it's been a long time since he had let his guard down around someone.

Nepgear genuinely seemed like a nice person to Owen, but she was waaaaaay far gone. Like she was brainwashed as fuck. The look she gave Owen was never good. Always either suspicion or curiosity as if he were some child that needed to always be watched so he didn't hurt himself. Like he was a baby, like he needed help with absolutely everything and couldn't handle himself for shit. All those books her sister gave her were a recipe for disaster.

He didn't like talking with her at all, especially since she was friends with IF. And IF? In the hospital, before he escaped, IF had the audacity to ask for his forgiveness as if she had real feelings. He was right to not forgive her, especially after everything she had put him through. Especially since she killed his best friend.

That bitch gets no mercy.

* * *

Now that I think about it, it was kinda funny to think that we could escape. After all my time around the Goddesses, I should've learned by now that I'm wicked valuable to them. Some big prize jewel or something. It's disgusting. Simple as that.

Maybe if I didn't decide to rescue Arfoire and Warechu I would've gotten enough time to get out of dodge before Purple Heart arrived to fuck up our day, hovering above the ground all ominous-like.

We even made it outside, to the courtyard. I made the decision to try and cut through the garden rather then run through the open, but then the army popped up out of nowhere and cut us off before we could get out that way.

Now we're stuck in this big grassy area by the street- if we cross it there's a chance we can get lost in the city- but blocking us between the street and the Basilicom is the Goddess, and she's seriously pissed off.

"You don't think you could get away that easy, did you?" Purple Heart bellowed clearly.

I say nothing, but I can't help but display my scorn on my face. It was almost as if I could physically point out exactly how far down my heart plummeted.

To my left, Arfoire laughed heartily and confidently, the exact opposite of how I would act at this time.

"Knowing you, Neptune, I would be halfway to my secret hideout by now. But things have changed, and I neither have a secret hideout nor know you as you are now."

The Goddess crossed her arms, nodding. "I'd love to have a discussion with you to catch up, Arfoire. But it will have to wait until you are behind bars once more."

"You were always the bold one." Arfoire says.

While the two major players talk, that Warechu dude elbows me in the side. The hell does he want?

"Hey buddy, she's stalling for ya."

I raise an eyebrow, still staring at my tormentor.

"I personally didn't think there would be a future of us anyways, chuu." He sighs, accepting the inevitable. "Listen here kid- you find our guy, his last name is Kiowa or something. He's out there somewhere and will definitely help you out. I donno where, don't ask. But you say you were with us and he'll help you out, I'm sure about it." He whispers to me.

 _Kiowa?!_

The rat looks up at Purple Heart, who is getting rather impatient.

 _No way. No fucking way in hell._

"No more time- come back for us as soon as you can, chuu." He pushes me with all his mouse strength, and I stumble back as Purple Heart lunges forward, sword raised and pointed at Arfoire's throat. "Go!"

 _I need to process this. I need to-_

Warechu pushes me again, snapping me out of my thoughts. I didn't even know I was frozen. "Go, Owen!"

Arfoire and the Goddess of Planeptune are locked in spectacular combat, with neither side looking as though they are close to giving up. But it's obvious that Arfoire can't keep up when she keeps getting struck over and over. It's hard for me to keep myself stable- this shit's crazy!

I slowly and reluctantly turn around, but then break into a full sprint away from the battle. I run and run and run until my knees burn and my chest hurts. I can't look back, not without slowing down. My legs take me along the Basilicom until I am able to find a clearing to cross the street.

But along the sidewalk is a lone girl. And strangely enough, I recognize her. Blocking my path stands a rather short, black haired girl with dumb looking pigtails and equally stupid black dress. She stands determined, but I can see that she's not all that confident by the look on her face.

She's this CPU candidate, Uni. I don't know her well at all, but I know her because she kept nagging me whenever she came to visit Nepgear. I don't get her deal really- she just thinks that I'm so interesting or something. Humans from earth suck dick, there's no reason to want anything to do with us.

But I'm here, running right into her at breakneck speeds. I hold my arms out in front of me as I scramble to slow down.

"Hey, you're Owe-" She starts to say something, but I crash into her before she can finish her sentence.

We tumble over like spaghetti, neither of us really resisting the fall or anything. Kinda stupid to be honest, but now my whole body feels sore and sucky. I hope that she feels worse.

"Bitch!" I shout, struggling to my feet.

She grabs my right ankle as I start to stand, nearly throwing me off balance again.

"Hey! Owen, stop, stop!" She cries out, holding firm to my leg from the ground. She's gonna take me back to them. Everything I've done- I knew I wouldn't be able to get away! Damn it.. damn it all!

Uni holds firm to my leg, and I can't get away no matter how hard I tug. Damn superhuman assholes…

"I'm not going to hurt you! I'm not going to take you back, trust me!"

 _Trust her? Of all people?_

"I-" She stutters, eyes shooting around the road and spotting the civilians starting to gawk at us like we were some bizarre zoo exhibit. "I'll prove it!"

I hold my breath.

She starts to glow as bright as the sun, and my right ankle heats up rapidly. It's wicked hard to see in the light, and I cover my eyes with my left arm, squinting.

The light dies down, and the first thought that runs through my mind is a simple statement. That's not Uni.

Skimpy ass-swimsuit girl with bigass curly white hair things pops out where Uni was, making me question my already fragile sanity. I knew that those damn Goddess assholes could transform, but Uni? She seemed so irrelevant to me that the thought never came to me.

Her bright, glowing eyes target mine with an uncertain determination.

"C-c'mon, we gotta get out of here!"

She grabs me by the ankles and shoots into the sky, thoughtfully giving me a pseudo-heart attack. There is now way in hell that I'd ever allow someone to take some somewhere I didn't want to go, and in this instance I want to go from kicking and biting to yelling, shooting and fucking murder.

This is NOT OKAY.

All the blood in my body instantly fucks up my brain, turning my vision red as I hang upside down, the weight of a thousand dump trucks pulling my torso off my legs.

The ground below me gets further and further away as I scream my lungs into the Stone Age. It's an ugly screech, and I'm an ugly guy, but I'm not shooting for looks right now.

"Let me GOOOOOO!" I demand, but my voice gets lost to the furious wind drenching me in cold. My jacket flips up, getting caught by the rush of air and my exposed chest freezes from the sudden change in temperature.

"Quiet!"

I barely hear that in the awful rush of the world getting smaller and smaller. The Basilicom fades below the gathering storm, lost to the clouds.

My breath runs out. I can't breathe. The air's getting too thin, and I can't think straight anymore.

We slow down, and I can feel it. My red vision starts to fade away, and the wind starts to ease. A godsend, I know.

When we stop ascending, Uni grabs me under the arms, moving me around like I were a big fat doll.

"You're heavy…" She grunts, and I look down.

"You'd better not drop me!" I half order and half plead. Err… mostly plead. Looking down, I can tell it's going to be a long, long fall. My feet tingle vibrantly, the feeling of a lack of a floor rushing through my legs.

"I won't, don't worry. Listen, Owen, I want to help you." She stresses, forcing me to look into her eyes. They glow, and it terrifies me. "I…" She looks around for someone to help reassure her, but there's no one else in the air. "I'm not taking you back. I'll take you to Lastation, they won't be able to find you there."

I'm far from being comfortable with that decision, and my face shows that.

"Listen, Uni," I start as she turns me around, letting me drop below her body. It's a weird feeling, knowing there's absolutely nothing below you. "I appreciate what you're doing and all, but you think you can.. I donno… tone it down a notch? I'm no superhuman…" I finish uneasily.

"Oh… sorry. I'm just a little lost in thought." She says gently as we start to glide to the east, towards Lastation.

Endless fields and valleys pass us by, streams and patches of forests marking progress being made in the flight and helping me feel as though we aren't sitting in place. The wind helps too, but the visuals are important. It's dreary down there, as the clouds start to congest the further out we fly.

"You say it's safe in Lastation?" I ask.

She sighs. "It should be. If we're not caught."

That's not reassuring at all. But it makes sense.

Uni continues, voice getting a bit softer. "You see, I'm not on the best of terms with everyone anymore."

Hmm? That's strange. Did she steal their shit or something? Call Noire a bad name?

"How so?"

She doesn't say anything for a while.

"I… I don't want to talk about that. I came to Nepgear to see if she wanted to support me, maybe come with me, but…"

She sighed again, getting emotional like a child. What an ass. I hate emotional people like her, come to think of it, just about all those CPUs get all sentimental all the time. What's up with that? I hate it. But this one is helping me, so it'd be best to be polite or whatever.

"You can see how that went. At least I found you when I did…" Uni finishes sollumnly.

"Mhm." I agree with her. I really didn't have a plan outside of running away, so it really was good that she found me. Uni doesn't seem to be the type of person to fake all these emotions, so maybe I can trust her a little more. Maybe. To her end, at least she hasn't turned me in yet.

We don't talk for a while. I think that's both a good thing and a bad thing, as sometimes her grip eases on me and I can almost feel myself dropping down into the mountain ranges between Lastation and Planeptune. And boy, those mountains are freaky tall. The clouds are separated by them, making it seem like the clouds are the ground and the mountains are smaller than they really are. And I'm glad I have my green coat on, as it's cold as fuck up here. I see patches of snow gathering on the tips of each peak, driving the temperature in for me. At least my teeth aren't clattering yet.

But now I have time to think. And I really need that.

Did Warechu really say Kiowa? Or is my head playing tricks on me? My wants and regrets better not be messing with my rational thinking. I might be going insane.

There's no way he lived. There's no way that he made it to Gamindustri, it just doesn't make any sense.

But when was the last time anything made any real sense? I search my mind, hoping for anything to that either confirms or denies Nate's life. He could've lived. He could've died.

And I hate not knowing.

* * *

There's a knock on the door. From behind his desk, Jens Calligher looks up, curious. His youthful brown hair has gotten a few grey hairs mixed in, signs that the stress and workload has begun to affect his middle-aged body.

"Mr. President." A secret service agent pokes his head into the room. "We need you in the conference room. This is urgent."

Jens sighs, putting down a pen in his hand. More bad news. Recently in the White House, all news was always bad news. No exceptions.

Jens got up, pushed his chair in and adjusted his tie. An aura of professionalism was a must, no matter how hard things got. He was the face of a country, a rallying figure in a swamp of darkness.

He walked to the door, shoulders slumped and body ready to face another defeat with tired, sleepless eyes.

"Right this way, sir." After he closed the door, the agent guided the president down the hall and to the first conference room.

To Jens, the White House felt like a shell of what it once was. There were almost no people wandering the halls, no employees walking about. People were so concerned that a major strike would be delivered to the capital at any moment- missile or otherwise. Almost the whole city was abandoned, with the exception being a skeleton crew of government officials and the few citizens that refused to trade their homes for a refugee camp.

The agent stopped in front of the conference room. The big oak door was opened by the president, and he stepped inside cautiously.

"Good afternoon, Mr. President." Another agent greeted him inside. "Just minutes ago we received a transmission from an unknown source."

Jens Calligher took a seat at the head of a large oval table. Along the sides of the table sat a handful of other important government officials, most notable being two major army generals. A large screen across from the president switched on, revealing the image of a blonde-haired woman sitting at a desk.

"We believe that is the CPU of Leanbox, Green Heart. Responsible for the invasion of the Iberian peninsula, Ireland, Southeast Asia and England." The agent ceased talking, and took a position behind the president.

A government official stood up, resuming the meeting.

"Now, we've reviewed the video several times and found no trace of the location of the sender. It's also interesting to note that she is recording at a personal computer rather than a more offical location." He pointed at the space behind Green Heart, where pictures and posters of anime lines the walls alongside character figurines. "Before we start the video, take note of the objects behind her. This confirms our suspicions- Asian culture and Gamindustrian culture is more similar than we would think."

The official continued. "We are going to play the recording now, hold your questions until after the video." He sat back down at the table, pulling out a remote.

The president leaned in, interlocking his fingers atop the table. And the figure on the screen came to life, staring into the camera and speaking confidently.

"Hello people of the United States. You may already know me as Lady Green Heart. I am the Console Patron Unit of Leanbox, and I am pleased to have the opportunity to be the first to contact you."

She took a deep breath, looking off screen to her right, a tinge of worry on her face.

"I would like to first tell you that I had no intention to combat any of the people of Earth, but my hand is forced. The other three leaders, White Heart, Black Heart and most notably Purple Heart, have all invaded your word to gain power by aquiring a mineral of yours, Kyanite. In the most simple words, it gives us power. I never wanted to have any part in this, but I couldn't allow my country to be left behind and possibly become overwhelmed by our soon-to-be more powerful neighbors."

The president raised an eyebrow.

"I'd like to inform you that I have ordered all my forces to cease all offensive operations on Earth, but we cannot simply give up the land that we currently control due to political reasons. And to further aid your cause, I would like to inform you that Lowee and Lastation is readying for a massive push into New Hampshire in order to secure the portal that is in your possession. Your actions are your own, and from here on out, mine are as well. Until the others make contact with you, consider them hostile."

"Finally, I'd like to apologize for my inadvertently terrible actions. I have no intention to resume this useless war, and would like to support you in any way I can in order to make things right." Vert smiled. "You cannot directly contact me, but rest assured, you have one less enemy."

The video ended, and the screen cut out to black.

"A cessation of hostilities." Jens said out loud. "A temporary solution."

"Indeed," The same official replied. "But that is only if we can hold Green Heart to her word."

Jens planted his chin on his hand, which was propped up on the table. After a moment of thought, he spoke.

"I have a feeling that this is the start of something good for once."


	12. Futile

"Some fight, huh." I say solemnly, hands leaning on the barrel of my rifle as the butt sticks into the snow. It's frighteningly cold, and the surface of my rifle is like ice. Luckily my gloves keep me warm, a luxury that not many people are spared.

"Fight?" My friend, Stocker, tugs softly on my left shoulder. He slowly releases a deep breath, the mist from his maw dissipating into the unforgiving winter wind. "Garland, that's a damn massacre."

From our position beside the road, I can see a dozen battered and beaten humvees, along with an armored truck, chug up a slight incline. The whole road is covered in a thick layer of snow, forcing the vehicles to drive carefully up the slippery slope. They wearily drive towards safety, away from the dying woods and towards the giant portal behind me.

Funny, the place closest to our enemy becoming the safest place around. And that's stretching it.

A soldier in the driver's seat of a Humvee slows down as it passes us, and he rolls down the window. He wears a pair of black sunglasses, and his face is completely unkempt with splashes of dirt and blood stuck to his cheeks. Looks like he hasn't been given a chance to clean up in a while, poor guy.

"Hey!" He yells, his voice deep and demanding. "Up this road is the New Hampshire outpost, right?"

"Yeah!" I reply loudly, shrugging Stocker off my shoulder. "You guys with the 21st?"

He nods. "What's left of it, yeah. We couldn't hold, not for long." His car completely pulls over, coming to a complete stop right next to me and my buddy. "They don't stop for nothin'." He sighed, resting his elbow on the windowsill. A bloodied man in the back of the car stares at me as if I were something to pity. The driver continued. "Private, they don't stop for anyone."

Suddenly I knew what he meant, and I couldn't stop my eyes from jolting out wide in surprise, sorrow and fright.

He waves me off before I can say anything. "We're cowards, private." He glares at my name tag before continuing. "Garland, get yourself out of here. Before we lost comms, Darkstar said something about scorched earth." He looks at Stocker, then back at me. "The hell you guys doing so far down this road anyway?"

I glance at my buddy for a moment for reassurance, then turn back to the driver. He shifts in his seat, revealing his rank to me. He's a first lieutenant.

"Guard duty, sir." I state, nervously adjusting my posture for my senior.

"Guard duty?" He spits. "The hell you gonna do here without a working radio?" He pauses to start up the car again, then places both hands on the wheel. "I'll be talking to your CO about this." He looks at me expectantly. What does he want?

With anger on his tongue, he waves at us. "Get in!"

Both me and Stocker shuffle to follow orders. I open the back door, and both of us squeeze inside next to the wounded man. I sit next to him and tuck my M16 between my legs. Stocker does the same with his rifle.

As the car rolls onto the bumpy road, I get a good look at the man next to me, and it's nothing pretty. A white bandage is wrapped around his forehead, now stained a dark red over where his right eyebrow should be. A shrapnel injury, he's lucky to have survived. And here I thought my busted-up shins were bad. The sight of the man is really nerve wracking, even for a professional soldier like me.

Hell, soldiers are still people- over the past few weeks it seems like I've been one of the first to really understand that. Working with the boys in the rear and helping to treat the wounded made this a common sight to see, even if I wasn't directly fixing anyone up. Seeing all those men reduced to helplessness, it really humbles a person. Any person.

But there's no time left for gentle thoughts like that anymore. It's a constant state of having the "switch flipped", and it's done a number on all of us. Wears a guy down. But it's the sacrifices we make that keeps the others okay. One thing we lose is one more thing preserved- even if I don't see it now. And as the days dragged on- in my lifetime.

The drive went without any talk at all. The Lieutenant was in serious trouble. Not physically, but mentally. I could see it in the aggressive way he moved, the erratic way he handled the wheel. His eyes were peeled, constantly engulfed in nothing but combat. In the past he wouldn't be fit for duty due to a case of PTSD, but now every pair of hands is needed.

As for mine? Today it looks like we're needed in the rear. Not for what my job description entailed, but for breaking down what we worked so hard to build so nothing is left for the enemy.

The humvee parked in a makeshift parking lot in the thick of the woods, seven or so more empty vehicles sat still beside us. The occupants disembarked, minus the wounded man. The Lieutenant was going back for him, but before we left him, he instructed us to find the captain for tasking.

Me and Stocker shuffled past frantic groups of armored soldiers, all working hard to pack gear into vehicles or toss documents into massive bonfires out in the thick of the forest. Even from below the tips of the leafless trees I could see the tall, bellowing smokestacks bloat high into the clear sky.

The captain wasn't hard to miss. Assisting a pair of men in discussing a suitable defense plan, he could be seen donning a standard patrol cap but not wearing his body armor.

Me and Stocker approached him quickly, and stood beside him until he finished speaking.

The duo of soldiers he was talking to briskly left once they were ordered to ambush and delay, and then he turned to me, a certain fire in his eyes. A fire of determination, knowing that what happens here might make or break the entire New England front. Something about that look in his eyes filled me with motivation to fight on.

"Good afternoon sir." I briskly saluted, along with Stocker. The captain immediately returned the salute, and after a moment we put our hands back down.

"Good afternoon to you as well." He greets, leaning his right foot on a tree root. "You don't seem to be busy."

"We're looking for orders." I nod.

"That's mighty convenient." He says. "I'm in need of a pair of hands to get something done for me. It's more of personal than anything, but I think I can spare you guys."

He briefly scans the trees behind us, monitoring the soldiers carrying supplies as if they couldn't be trusted. Each one of them carried a different item, some could be brought along with the retreat, but others had to be destroyed.

"Listen up." He orders, and me and Stocker step in closer. "A buddy of mine, Sergeant Damon, is listed MIA down south when a medevac Blackhawk got downed. It's not that far from here, but it's dangerously close to the brunt of the enemy advance. There's a good chance he might be dead, but I can't stand not knowing for sure. And I'll be damned if I leave him behind, especially after everything he's done for me."

He takes a breath, standing upright. "You guys don't have to go out there, but if you stay I want you both to help with the evacuation." He pauses. "What do you say?"

 _I'm given a choice here?_ I look back at Stocker, who gives me a blank look. _There's no way I could leave a man behind, even if there's a possibility he's dead._ I face the captain again, knowing what to say.

"Of course we'll do it. No man left behind." I affirm confidently.

He smiles faintly, but still glad. "I had a feeling you'd agree." His face gets more serious. "Be quick, none of us are sure when the first Loweean tanks are gonna show up."

My buddy leans in, eager to get a move on. "We'll be done before you know it. What's the location?"

The captain sighs, obviously unsure. "Try bearing 160 for two clicks, if you don't see a trace of them in an hour turn back. Seriously. Don't waste any time past the defenses."

"We'll get it done." Stocker finishes for me, then nudges my shoulder. "Let's get going!"

We hastily trudge away from our commanding officer, knowing that every second counted in the matter of search and rescue. I lead the way, jogging towards a humvee before hopping behind the wheel. Some people shot me some funny looks, but hey, I got orders right from the captain. Complain to him if I'm taking your car!

Stocker slams the door behind him as he squeezes himself into the seat next to me.

"Well?" He prods. "160… should be that way," He points with a thumb. "Towards the south."

I turn the key and the truck roars to life, shattering the relative silence of the forest. It's hum presents a familiar backdrop as I start to pull out and into the unpaved road.

"Hey, double check for me. I really don't want to get lost in the boonies when those Goddesses come to whup our asses."

Stocker smiles, concerned about the same thing. "Just drive."

When we leave the outpost's perimeter, I can't help myself but peer into the rear view mirror. Constantly. The sight of that giant, jet-black portal always freaked me out, especially since it was so tall. Everyone for miles could see our exact position, sorta like those waypoints you get in video games that guide you towards your objective.

Seeing it now from such a distance away makes me nervous. Can we really protect that tall-ass thing with such limited numbers? No, of course not. That's why we were packing up, after all. But the lieutenant mentioned Darkstar, the callsign of the AWACS flying over the Atlantic. They always knew more than we did, and still do, so maybe something more is coming down that we don't know about. It makes sense. We would want to disable that portal, make it unusable for the enemy. But with what?

I slow down around a curve, swiftly looking both ways before taking a left. The snow-covered road is terribly bumpy, but it isn't nearly enough to stop me from keep pushing onwards. My eyebrows furrow inwards, another wave of determination spiraling down my spine. Or maybe it's nervousness- I can't tell anymore.

"Hey! Garland, stop the car!" Stocker shouts, pointing off the road and into the woods to my right.

"What?!" I thrust my foot down hard on the brakes, throwing my body forwards. Luckily I had my seatbelt on, but Stocker had to catch himself before he smashed into the glass.

"Jesus!" He exclaimed as we came to a stop. Once he had adjusted himself back to a sitting position, he pointed out the window again. "Check it out, the helicopter!"

I squint into the trees, the darkness within it making searching a little difficult. But sure enough, the outline of a Blackhawk sits solemnly in the middle of a shallow clearing it made during the crash. It's not on fire or anything, which makes me think it's been here longer than I had thought.

"I see it!" With both hands, I spin the wheel around and around until I can maneuver it beside the snow-covered road. Once I'm confident with the parking job, I flip off the engine and hop outside.

The biting cold blankets my cheeks once again, making me wish for the safety of the humvee. I shrug off my desires as I jog into the woods, Stocker behind me.

The snow is terribly deep, and each step is like sulking through a thick, thick pond of mud. Frigidly cold particles of the endless white finds it's way into my boots and past my socks, nipping at my ankles.

We trudge on past tall pine trees and leafless bushes, past boulders and along the edge of a slight incline. The tough branches of each bush grazes my ACUs and body armor as if they were out to kill. The whole world is terribly unforgiving.

We reach the vehicle's carcass, and the smell of frozen meat fills the air. I almost puke at the putrid stench, but the lack of food in my stomach keeps be from doing so.

"I'm gonna move around, check the other side." My buddy tells me, skirting around to my right.

"I gotcha." I respond without taking my worried eyes off the closed doors of the helicopter.

My weary legs bring me up to those broken doors, and I peer inside through the tiny gap in between them- it looks like they were jammed open a little in the crash.

The silent interior is devoid of all light. It's much too hard to see what's inside, so I place my gun down in the snow in preparation to pull apart the doors.

I assume a steady stance, and insert my fingers between the gap. They barely manage to fit in the crack, but I decide to pull anyways. I grit my teeth, using every fiber of my strength to pull.

Even after ten whole seconds of pulling, the door still refuses to budge. My heart sinks as I step back, panting slowly in a hot sweat.

"Any luck on your end?" A crestfallen Stocker comes up on my from my left, weapon in hand.

He stands next to me, but I keep my eyes on the door. "This door is bolted shut. And by the looks of it, chances of surviving this crash are crazy bad."

"Crazy bad…" He repeats with a sigh.

We stand in silence, knowing that we're going to have to return to base empty-handed. Another dissappointment in an ocean of failures.

A shallow hum fills the winter air- piercing the music of the whistling wind.

It's an artificial hum, a blisteringly painful whirring of engines, a hum of an unknown danger waiting in the trees. Waiting for us. Looking for us.

Both me and Stocker duck down, nearly crawling at foliage-level. My heart pounds against my chest alongside adrenaline surging through my veins.

 _They're here._

A heavy shadow sweeps over the trees, the figure of a massive hovercraft passing overhead. Along the road, four armored vehicles resembling BTRs slide over the snow.

Their hulking bodies each bear the emblem of Lowee on it's flank. A sparkly, white star with a blue cursive "L" running through it. Even at this distance away from the road I can see it as clear as day.

I slowly and methodically lower myself onto my stomach, keeping my rifle out in front of me and pointed at the road. Stocker crawls over to a tree, using it as concealment against the convoy.

The enemy engines keep roaring up the road as the hovercraft speeds past it, not daring to divert it's course.

But the fourth vehicle slows down as the ground platoon passes our humvee. Nothing good comes out of a firefight with Gamindustrians. Victories come with overwhelming firepower and numbers, both of which were never plentiful enough.

And with mechanized support there's no way me and Stocker are going to get out of this alive, not without an incredible stroke of luck.

The Lowee APC deploys it's cargo, and the squad of enemy soldiers step into the snow. They cautiously approach the humvee, weapons all armed with fingers on each trigger.

The leader orders two out of the seven soldiers to check out the car, and they fall out of formation to examine it.

Slowly but surely the whole enemy squad surrounds our car, and the two sent to investigate peer into the windows, searching for hidden occupants or anything of interest.

Luckily we had nothing inside the humvee of value, and one of the searchers flashes a thumbs up to their superior.

Without checking the woods or taking any precautions that they should've taken, the whole squad turns back to their own transport.

As they all crowd around the entrance to their vehicle, Stocker, on his on volition, stands up, fragmentation grenade in hand.

"Frag out!" He shouts, shocking the Loweean squad. He tosses it hard, and it makes a shallow thwump as it impacts the snow.

And it detonates with a mighty explosion, sending soundwaves through my ears and body parts into the sky, alongside fluffy white chunks of snow.

The turret atop the vehicle bears down on us, and cracks the Earth with an intense salvo of machine-gun fire. Each round chops bark and wood off the trees, sending sharp shrapnel into the air. Stocker jumps down to the right, tucking his face down into the snow.

The heavy gun keeps firing, and we stay pinned. I keep myself from panicking, but I still push my face down into the frosty ground.

 _What the hell was he thinking?_

I hoist up my M16 and take aim at the enemy APC. Luckily for us, most of the enemy had been wiped out with that one grenade. Usually it took a few explosives to kill even one of them, but since they were so close to the vehicle and were all clustered together, maybe the shockwaves were more concentrated among them.

One of them struggles to their feet, helmet off and balaclava torn. It's a girl, and her black body armor is stained in the sickly red blood of her friends.

She stands there in absolute shock as I empty my whole magazine into her upper body. Each pull of my trigger slams into her body as if they were solid punches. After ten more rounds to the head, she slumps back against the vehicle, too dazed to keep standing.

Two more soldiers pick themselves out of the snow, and they seem more primed to kill then that girl. With weapons drawn, they open fire in my general direction.

"A- ah shit!" I cry out, scooting over to my left with my head tucked in the snow. The enemy seemed too panicked to fire straight, and their rounds scatter across the world around me. Bullets slam into the snow, are caught by trees or fling into the Blackhawk's sidings.

"I'm covering, move left!" Stocker orders, kneeling beside his tree. He uses the trunk to stabilize his weapon as he opens fire in the direction of the Loweean combatants.

I shuffle through the snow, crawling rapidly for a fallen log to my left. It's surrounded by the thin branches of a bush, but I push through them and keep my head down.

Right after Stocker shouted, the main gun on the APC fired several high-explosive shots in a furious anger, splashing into the snow before him.

The close proximity of the explosions shear off some skin on his face, burning him and throwing him backwards. He howls in pain, clutching his weapon for dear life.

"Damn it!" I snarl in both anger and fear, pulling one of my magazines out of my chest rig and swapping it with the one in my weapon. Once reloaded, I begin to bring myself to a kneel above the log but stop myself at the last moment.

A sudden realization came through my head, reminding me that I am still sane enough to know that revealing my position again is suicide. But there's this tugging, no, this tremendous yank in my chest pulling me out to Stocker. I can't leave him there! My mind screeches in agony as I squeeze my eyes shut.

But what can I do? Stocker is dying to my right, and I got two contacts closing in on me to finish us off.

The APC is not going to let up, and there really isn't a way to disable it without any heavy ordinance. And we have none…

Is surrender an option?

Hell no! What am I thinking?

The lieutenant told me that they stop for no one. That also goes against everything I've trained for, everything that I live for. Giving up when I've come so far would be shameful. A disgrace to my country. A disgrace to everyone. A disservice to humanity.

Like so many others before me, I knew my time would come, but I never knew how. I have to say, it kinda feels good to be at peace. To know how it's gonna end.

So be it, I thought, staring at Stocker's wriggling body with a certain frenzy of dedication.

With shaky fingers, I pull a grenade out of my chest rig, holding it with both hands.

* * *

 **1624: TRANSCRIPT BEGIN**

 **1624: (DARKSTAR) This is Darkstar to Orion, requesting sitrep on the strike package, over.**

 **1624: (ORION): Orion to Darkstar, the strike package is 2 minutes out, but *garbled radio***

 **1625: (ORION): Be advised, the strike package is now being redirected 20 miles direct south. JTAC has PID on unprecedented troop concentration, over.**

 **1625: (DARKSTAR): What? No, you can't do that.**

 **1625: (ORION): We cannot miss this opportunity.**

 **1626: (DARKSTAR): No! You must understand that there are *garbled radio***

 **1626: (ORION): This was understood beforehand.**

 **1626: (DARKSTAR): No, you don't fucking understand! The-**

 **1626: (ORION): A second strike package is enroute to the original target location, ETA 20 minutes. Out.**

 **1627: (DARKSTAR): No! You can't- God dammit I have family down th-**

 **1627: ORION TERMINATES CONNECTION**

 **1627: TRANSCRIPT END**

* * *

They were expected to get to the objective by 4:30 in the afternoon, but after a handful of holdups and several annoying stragglers Blanc was behind schedule. Far behind schedule, and she _hated_ it.

Because of those annoyances whom she had dealt with personally, most of her armored units were cluttered together, far behind the advance her mechanized units were at. She knew it would be bad to have them get cut off or picked off, but her forces had good communication, and things were starting to move smoothly again. _Damn Earth and their stupid roads..._

Right now, Blanc, in her HDD form, has to deal with an annoyance that couldn't be dealt with in a number of hate-filled hammer swings. And boy did she want to smash the heads in of these assholes who decided to block up her personal escort.

Four soldiers wearing standard army Multicam stood with their arms in the air at a 3-way road intersection. They stood bloodied, half starved, clothes torn and stripped of all gear. Standing in the middle of the road, she had instructed her soldiers to deal with this sort of situation on their own in any way they wanted, but for some _stupid_ reason, the driver of the lead APC had to stop.

And now Blanc hovered above that lead APC, staring all four of them down.

"L-Lady White Heart, what should we do?" A woman stood in front of the lead vehicle, weapon pulled tightly against her chest. She stood rigidly, like a statue.

Blanc huffed in angst. This wasn't worth her time. Not when she was so close! If she wanted to be the first to finish off NORAD in the east, she had to move fast. Her brilliant pincer movement would be hailed for generations to come, only if she could pull it off! And boy, was she so close to victory.

The Goddess retrieved her weapon from her inventory, letting it hang at her waist lazily.

The men in her sights weren't dazed in the slightest, and looked up meekly. Their fate was decided on it's own, and there was nothing they could've done to change it. Not now, not ever.

A shallow gust of wind swept through the trees behind them, rustling through the bountiful trees. A few birds were awake and alive, singing their songs despite the winter chill. Despite the turmoil around them. As if nothing had changed at all.

"Isn't it obvious?" White Heart scowled. She tightened her grip on the hammer, but still let it hang at her waist.

Hmm. She looked down at her hammer, then looked up at the men.

That one on the far left. His blue eyes, they never left her own. He had shaggy brown hair, a sliver of a beard coming in. Must've been a while since he last shaved. She hated how he stared at her without fear.

She was to strike fear in the hearts of her enemies. Her hammer brought nothing but death, nothing but pain for her enemies and salvation for her allies in a swift swing.

But he wasn't afraid. He stared at her with the eyes of a child, caught doing something wrong and awaiting a stern lecture. Like Rom, or like Ram.

 _What was his deal?_

On the battlefield, her enemies always fought until the death. These opponents, however, wished to cease fighting. But they knew her protocols for dealing with prisoners.

 _Why did they surrender?_

A more reclusive part of her HDD form peeked out, a major part of her human form but never even considered when in conjunction with her Goddess duties.

 _Did they want to die?_

She wanted to know more.

But all other thoughts ended in that moment.

From behind her, far behind her, in the half second it takes for someone to fall in love, a second sun with the brightness of all of nighttime Lowee multiplied by a million glistened into existence behind her.

She turned in midair, bringing her left arm up to shield her eyes from the blinding light.

It kept shining, and then in an instant she heard the godlike rumble.

With the shout of every dying man, woman and child the wind knocked her out of the sky and into the ground.

The ground seemingly cracked and died, the trees too weak to hold had their branches snap off with terrifying cracks.

APCs were swept off the ground, some even pushed several meters by the might of the wind.

Her soldiers cried out in confusion, some letting go of their weapons in the chaos while others fell to their feet to hide.

And then a blast of heat engulfed the world, almost like she were thrown into a preheated oven. Her skin felt like a rock that had baked for hours in the hot summer sun, and the snow on the ground or sitting in trees turned to water. Ice under rocks and in small potholes in the road changed immediately to water, and started to steam.

She felt sick.

She fell to the ground, no longer concerned about anything but keeping her insides in. She clutched her chest, gritting her teeth and retching in pain. The hot mud felt disgusting against her skin, the heat felt so, so bad.

But it wasn't fatal. She knew she would live, she knew that it wasn't enough to kill a Goddess. She knew that the pain would end as it always did.

But her soldiers? Would they make it? Even with the enhancements that came with Kyanite on Earth, this was doubtful. And it scared her.

It gripped her bones with an iron grip. Blanc couldn't take it any longer, glowing herself. It pales in comparison to the blinding light that came from the horizon. Her transformation was quick.

And she felt weak. Helpless. Her fate was out of her control, decided long ago by others far out of her reach. Nothing she could've done would've prevented this.

 _But what was this?_

 _Was this the end?_

 _And if so, of what?_

* * *

The moment he saw the light, he knew it was over. Garland felt himself die, he saw himself die.

But then he felt the heat, the rumble and the roar.

And he wasn't dead, he could feel. He could think, he could see that the world around him was changing outside of his control and outside of fathomable human comprehension.

The world around him turned to mud, it turned to a sauna of whatever he never wanted it to be.

And it wasn't the world that they wanted either.

And that was his window, his chance to move. A stroke of luck on an unprecedented scale. He felt like a god.

But then he opened his eyes and knew he was just another man in an ocean of others. He opened his eyes and saw Stocker, who needed him.

PFC Garland rushed off the slimy ground, shrugging off the biting heat. He tucked his arms under Stocker's and pulled. He didn't care if was spotted, he didn't care if he were killed.

In that moment, he had a chance to change fate, to cheat death.

Each step through the dying Earth felt like a hundred, and when he finally stepped onto the road his skin was covered in a thick, terrible layer of sweat. It didn't go away, but rather stuck to his body like a stubborn parasite.

The enemy lied in the ground, completely taken back by the sudden attack to their eyes and skin.

Garland opened the passenger door to the humvee, and heaved Stocker inside. The metal of the vehicle was red hot, but that didn't bother him because he had gloves that burned his fingers like a thermos would.

As Garland threw himself into the driver's seat, every thought he could think was primitive. He couldn't think, not straight at least. He just had to get to safety, to get the hell out of here.

The engine started, and Garland spun the wheel around to the left. The wheels of the humvee dug into the mud, but when he put pressure on the gas the wheels were stuck.

But before he lost hope, the wheels shot out forwards, jutting his body backwards as the car popped out and onto the road.

Garland wrestled with the wheel as he sped towards the base, back the way he came. It seems so unfamiliar now that all the snow had melted, that the world turned dead.

All the trees were leafless, all the ground was mud. All the world was hot, and getting hotter.

It was a nuclear detonation, far from here but still close enough to feel the impact. And the impact was tremendous. It was only a matter of time before the radiation would seep into his skin in deadly amounts.

As Garland sped into the base, his eyes darted around for signs of life.

There was none. Not a single person walked the roads, not a single person crouched by the sandbags or stood with a weapon in hand.

Almost all the equipment was destroyed, and when he looked up he saw the smokestacks still rising ever higher beside the portal.

They had left without him.

…

They left without him!

 _No… nononono!_

Garland stopped the car and threw his hands under his chin. The pressure he felt to do the right thing flooded him, sticking like a boulder in his stomach.

The engine of the car gave him no answers, and he was stuck. Stuck in an abandoned base with radiation creeping up on him alongside a powerful enemy force.

His own radio was fucked up beyond repair, an EMP attack left his electronics fried a few days ago. Calling for help would be useless anyways, everyone must've ran away long ago.

And if the nukes were coming down… oh god…

Was he next?

If they were going to blow this portal, there wouldn't be a way to escape. His car couldn't possibly take him far enough to escape the blast. Survival was impossible.

Nowhere to go. No enemy to fight. Dying at the hands of the country he fought for, now that would be something. He'd be a statistic, wouldn't he?

Unless…

What about the portal?

That could be a way out.

Of course, people were prohibited from entering and under no circumstances could people go through. Something about preserving the advantage, a rule Garland thought was bullshit. But he knew that if he went through he wouldn't ever come back. At least, not for a long, long time.

And if he stayed?

 _No. I won't die. Not today._

* * *

There was nothing left in the base of use, nothing to prepare him for this last-ditch escape. And Garland didn't consider any sort of planning either. All he needed was to survive.

The path to the portal was rocky, and the area around the portal was gated.

He pushed the pedal all the way down, letting the wheels grind against the mud as he shot right through the gate, smashing the hinges off the door.

 _Fuck it!_

He held down the pedal as the massive, black opening swallowed him whole.

* * *

"Nepgear," Purple Heart sat on the couch in the Goddess living quarters of the Basilicom. To her left was her sister, sitting crestfallen with Neptune's gentle hand on her leg. "Are you sure Uni didn't tell you where she was going before she left?"

"Goodness…" She shook her head. "Sis, she said nothing. For the last time, no…"

Purple Heart sighed, letting her head droop.

It was getting late in the afternoon, and all sorts of vibrantly beautiful colors shone through the bountiful windows of the Basilicom. They painted the walls in a amber gold, and both Nepgear's and Neptune's hair shone.

Neptune brought up her right hand and brushed away some hair that fell in front of her sister's face.

"I'm really sorry you had to experience this." The older Goddess said solemnly, resting her hand on her sister's head.

"It's not your fault." Nepgear looked away, turning her head over the couch and towards the sunset. In her eyes reflected Planeptune, the tallest skyscrapers, the radio tower, smaller suburban buildings, the parks. It was gold.

"It was mine." She sighed. "It was my fault, I didn't see it coming… why did she have to leave me… no, leave us?"

Purple Heart opened her mouth to say something, but said nothing. Noire told her about the letter- it gave little answers. And after what she did earlier today, there really isn't any going back from that.

The lavender haired candidate tucked her face in her hands.

"Shh…" Neptune came in close, wrapping her arms around her sister. "It's okay, I'm here."

Nepgear sat there for a while as the sun come down ever so slowly. The shadows painted across Planeptune shifted, gradually eating away the gold of the sunset.

When the last rays of the sun tickled only the tip of the Basilicom, the CPU of Planeptune spoke.

"Here," She stood up, careful not to startle her sister. "I'll fetch the music and some snacks. Stay right there, okay?"

Neptune didn't expect a response as she walked for the kitchen. The blue walls greeted her in silence as she reached for the fridge, pulling out two cups of pudding.

After she shut the fridge door she reached for a small tabletop radio, one that Nepgear made for Neptune herself several years ago. It was a little dusty, seeing very little action since the dissolution of the friendship treaty.

It felt right to bring it out again, now that all the nations are on good terms again.

The little box sat in one hand, pudding and two spoons in the other.

Satisfied with her selection, Purple Heart walked back to Nepgear.

She really did care for her sister, even after so much had changed. One of the things that never change no matter what is the bond between friends and family. If anything were to happen to Nepgear- be it her being sad, or her being hurt- Neptune wouldn't allow it. Not even a little.

For Uni to disappear like that... that was selfish. She needed more time? What kind of excuse was that? If anything, Purple Heart needed more time. She was always on the job, directing her soldiers though North and South Carolina, making sure things on the home front were… under control… and managing everything that had to be done around the war.

It was a lot of work, but it was the work that she had to get done.

She felt exhausted. The loss of shares in the recent weeks had been catastrophic for all nations, but it hit Planeptune the hardest. Today's event was the final straw- knocking down Neptune's shares into a dangerous level.

But the first shipment of Kyanite would arrive in a week, and tomorrow the parade would occur. As for the main event for the parade, well, she'll just say that Owen got sick and couldn't attend. In no time this downward trend would quickly rise. She would make sure of it.

Purple Heart gently sat herself down beside Nepgear.

"Here, I brought you some pudding." She slid a cup of the dessert across the couch, spoon atop the lid. "Please have some, I brought it just for you."

Nepgear sighed, looking up at the pudding. She shook her head, refusing the tub.

Disappointed slightly, Neptune picked it up at set it aside on the low table in front of her. But before she opened up her own cup, she placed the radio next to the cup in the table.

With a flick of a switch and a turn of a knob, the rather primitive device came to life. Nepgear peeked up at the sound of her machine in action, and smiled a little.

She spoke softly. "You like it?"

"Yes, I do." Neptune replied with a slow nod.

The younger sister picked it up with both hands, smiling. She was happy that her sister was content with her, and the smile on her lips made Neptune glad in turn.

She fumbled with the device a little, a popular Lowee pop song playing quietly as she did so. But when she flipped the channel, instead of getting Planeptunian music to play, a male voice came on.

Unfamiliar yet intriguing, Nepgear turned up the volume.

 _"Good afternoon Gamindustri! I'd like to thank you all for tuning in to the first ever broadcast of Radio Free America. I'm here, and you're listening, because some crazy things have happened over on Earth that I'm not sure you know about. I mean, you all have heard of the takeover of Boston. It's everywhere in the news- Lastation forces take major city! Epic clash finally concludes! Victory! Those are all headlines I've seen when walking the streets. Not bad articles, I have to say. Well written, well researched. But there's a lot left out. For instance, did you know that half of all Lastation's air power was destroyed in the first hour of battle? After the exposure to initial American fighters, Black Heart personally withdrew all of her support aircraft for the next two days, leaving her soldiers at the mercy of-"_

Neptune twisted the dial, lowering the volume to a dull murmur.

"Nep jr, don't you think we should listen to some real music?"

Nepgear's eyes widened. "No, I'd really like to listen to this, if that's okay with you-"

Apparently it was not okay with Neptune, as she reached an arm out to switch the radio channel. Nepgear said nothing in protest as she turned the volume back up.

 _"Fighting in the streets continued for many days, with the defenders resisting savagely for as long as they could. When Lowee reinforcements arrived from the northwest, the men of the 21st Combined Arms Brigade began to cut their losses. They started to evacuate the city, starting with the outskirts closest to the fight to the inner city, blowing bridges and demolishing roads just to keep the attackers at bay. Slowly but surely it became a fight for survival rather than keeping the city intact. The news that anyone who tried to surrender got shot on the spot spread like wildfire. There was no escape for the defenders except by sea, but to that end the civilians had to get out first."_

"Alright Nepgear, you've had enough." Getting a bit worried now, Neptune reached for the radio.

Who was doing this? She thought angrily, tearing the device out of her sister's arms.

"Hey!" Nepgear half snapped, half pleaded.

"No more listening. It's getting time for you to get some sleep."

"But-" She knew she couldn't fight Neptune's final word. "Sis, you're not my mother or anything, don't treat me like that!"

Neptune just shook her head.

"Goodnight, Nepgear."

In a misshapen rush, Neptune stormed out of the room, heading straight for her meeting room upstairs.

Purple Heart had to think of something. She needed to get rid of that radio broadcast, and fast.

She saw what it was doing.

Humanization.

And it terrified her.


	13. Celebration

For IF, Noire and Blanc, the festivities of the Victory Parade was their catharsis. They could breathe again.

The day was so bright, to many it seemed as if the sun had saved itself a special ray of light to share with the Goddesses of Gamindustri today. Purple Heart thought it to be fitting, given the occasion.

All throughout Planeptune, the scent and aura of festivities permeated all aspects of city life. Banners hung from streetlights, confetti fell from the sky in a plethora of mystical colors, and no matter where you went, people had a smile on their face like it were the plague.

Not a bad plague. Rather, a catharsis for everyone spread from the winds of war, all the way to the dining room table. A release of their sorrow and worry for those at the front, replaced by the reassurance that their loved ones were safe. That their loved ones fought the good fight and came back to break all feelings of doubt and uncertainty for tomorrow with a hug that broke those obstacles and replaced them with love.

They were coming home.

Not everyone, though. Some people had to wait an extra day due to logistical issues, due to a bump in the command chain slowing the teleportation. Some had to grit it out on the front lines, some had to follow orders. Some were stuck, stuck in a trench somewhere in Cambodia or near Vladavostok. Some knew that their mission was too important to put on hold for even a second, and others had no family to come home to. But some never came home to share in the festivities, and their seats at the dinner table were left empty with a candle lit by the window left in their place.

Jubilant families departed their homes and took to the streets in the chance to catch their daughter or son marching through their streets. Lastation, Leanbox and citizens from Lowee all made the pilgrimage to Planeptune, supported by their governments, to witness all four nations sharing the same location for this morale-boosting expedition.

As for Planeptune's forces, their parade path was long, and it would be a while before their brave women and men could be met face-to-face by their fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters.

For commander IF, today's schedule was going to be packed.

IF was told to meet Compa and Nepgear at the Earth weapons exhibit on the convention street, where hundreds of people gathered to be greeted by an equal number of stands, each one boasting a different war-related thing.

Once they had all met up, they were going to find the other CPUs in a private room to view 5pb's concert, which would bring them into the night.

It was a long awaited day for IF, whose body was nothing but humbled at the sight of hundreds of people cheering alongside the road. She stood atop a lead main battle tank among many, waving into the crowd- to the left, to the right, and when someone called her name- which she could hear on some occasions if the speaker shouted hard enough, she would give them a wave as opposed to the left, right waves.

Of course, she didn't quite like the crowd all that much and found it somewhat of a distressing experience at first, but over time she got the hang of it, and the longer the parade went on, it felt good.

Pairs of Planeptunian jet planes swept across the sky gracefully, like birds gliding over a lake during a picturesque spring morning. They belonged in these skies, they excelled in these skies.

They were followed by Lowee, Leanbox then Lastation, whose planes released red and black contrails across their flight path, intermingling beautifully with the crisp, blue sky.

The tanks clanked onwards through the streets, the crew leaning out of hatches with their arms extended. It was so relieving to be back home, even if it was just for one or two days.

These machines of war brought memories back to the soldiers, but when surrounded by the ones they fought for, the crew members felt a release. Not from war, but a burden that they carried that, after being in the field for so long, made them feel that they fought for themselves and only themselves.

Seeing these people brought them all full circle. They fought for these people, they fought for their Goddess. They fought for their nation and its prosperity. And that realization was all they needed to renew their determination.

* * *

When the parade reached it's end, and the first tanks rolled into formation with their turrets aimed high, IF smiled.

They rolled out into a wide open expanse in front of the Basilicom, the same place where the friendship treaty was first signed several years ago. This time, after years of strife, change and strengthening, all four CPUs have come together once more, alongside their respective armies, to cherish this rekindled unity.

The parade belonging to Lastation pulled up, and their tanks filed into formation to the right of Planeptune. And to the left, Lowee. And further than that, Leanbox.

All their armor glistened in the midday sunlight, and hair fluttered gently in a cool breeze.

Purple Heart, Goddess of Planeptune, flanked by the other three CPUs, hovered with their wings extended before their loyal soldiers. They wore elaborate gowns that matched each one of them well, and their eyes shone like lanterns, beckoning all eyes in the crowd to meet their own.

And once the last of the massive four-nation crowd settled in, standing anxiously behind the wide military formation, Purple Heart spoke. Her voice was clear and strong, radiating pure confidence.

Loudspeakers mounted on tall poles all through the formation sounded off, picking up Neptune's bold speech and broadcasting it for all to hear.

"People of Gamindustri, I am honored to be here today to be the first to welcome us all to the Gamindustri Victory Parade." She nodded briskly, receiving a phenomenal applause.

White Heart thrust herself forward, rivaling Neptune's confidence with her own. A brief second of interference tripped up her first word, but she keep speaking as if nothing had happened.

"It's great to see so many of us here today. I know, we've seen some setbacks in the recent weeks. This fight has been brutal for both sides, but rest assured, this is only the first month of combat. So much has yet to happen, so much can and will change in our favor." Another half-second of static overlapped Blanc's speech, but she ignored it. So did everyone else in the crowd.

"We're all here today to celebrate our great successes, for which there have been many." White Heart finished, allowing Black Heart to press herself forwards.

"Our countries have come together to usher in this new age. All of us are more united than ever in this great endeavor which all of us face today." Noire paused with her mouth open. Her eyes surveyed the crowd, briefly flashing a hint of regret which no one could see. "When the time comes, we will all be known as heroes, saviors of both Gamindustri and Earth." She concluded solemnly, the memory of Boston skirting around the edges of her eyes like a child taunting authority, just out of reach.

She stepped down, and all eyes were on Green Heart. All eyes.

"Anything that I can say will only reinforce what my fellow CPUs have said." Green Heart said with her eyes on the hundreds of people gathered past the tanks. "And that said, anything more will only delay further festivities."

Purple Heart was a little surprised that Green Heart did not follow her script, but the end result was still acceptable.

"My friends, it's time we conclude this speech." The Goddess of Planeptune thrust herself forwards, speaking quickly. "Please help yourself to the remainder of today's activities and enjoy yourself."

Purple Heart's quick interdiction was very unusual for many, but the Goddess's confidence swayed the masses. They wouldn't place any doubt on their leader, ever. Gamindustrians are loyal. And that fact, selectively bred over the last few years since the dissolution of the Friendship Treaty, became a blessing for the Goddesses.

* * *

"Hey guys," IF pushed through the crowd, her shoes clicking against the stone street. Her words caught the attention of Nepgear and Compa, who were both eyeing down a G36 assault rifle at a large wooden booth. "Sorry I'm late, got caught up with something."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all!" Compa gave her friend a big smile, turning to face the newcomer.

"How was it?" Nepgear asked, bringing her hands together before her. "The parade, did you enjoy it?"

"Oh," IF smirked, thinking back. "It was pretty hot, and my legs got real tired after a while." She rubbed the back of her neck, still smirking. "It was alright."

"By that look on your face, you must've loved it!" The CPU candidate chirped, happy that her friend had a good time.

"Heh, I guess so." IF finished, bringing her arms back to her side. "So what's this you're looking at?"

The woman behind the booth perked up at the mention of her showcase. She leaned forward, lightly pushing the weapon towards the group of three.

She spoke up, catching the group's attention. "This here is a G36C assault rifle, it's a weapon used by quite a few European nations." She looked up at IF. "Would you like to hold it?"

"Me?" IF blinked, her green eyes twinkling in the light of the festive confections. "No thanks, really."

"There's a lot more weapons if you keep moving to your right," The woman leans out of her booth, extending an arm to her left. "There's a bigger stage over there that also has some cool vehicles if you're interested in that. You can even go inside some, I highly recommend you check it out." She nodded with a grin, pulling back into her booth.

"Vehicles?" Nepgear's eyes widened at the sound of machines. "We need to check that out, c'mon guys!" She started to tug on a startled Compa's wrist with haste. "Thank you thank you thank you!" She called out to the woman behind the booth as she trudged through the crowd.

"Geez, she really gets worked up about her machines…" IF sighed, following in the candidate's footsteps.

As she walked down the street, IF caught glimpses of the other booths up and down the street. Some presented minor things like Earth silverware, some larger tents were like miniature museums and held relics from battles. Other tents were dedicated to revealing knowledge about campaigns and operations taking place across each continent alongside veterans who fought in each one. Like museums. Those booths were the most crowded by far, with people of all ages shuffling through and reading plaques, receiving audio tours or just browsing on their own.

IF had only fought in the North American Theater, but apparently that seemed to be the least-successful theater of them all, much to IF's dismay. The most successful was the Asian Theater, which massive swaths of land being conquered across the mainland and beyond. She thought it to be somewhat of an insult to have so many of her assets redirected towards Asia, as she thought it would be best to support each front fairly equally.

But there was talk among high command that since things were going so poorly elsewhere, that all four nations would dedicate all their forces to Asia rather than spread everyone out across the globe. It seemed like a sound tactical idea, but to IF, it would've been best to do that right off the bat rather than in the middle of war. And even then, that would, to her, feel like a disgrace for all those who gave their lives in Europe and America. But it was a developing plan, still in discussion and yet to be set in stone.

Back on the street, IF's eyes were drawn to food stands. Falafels from the Middle East, kebabs from Serbia, baguettes from France, and sushi from Japan. Impressive displays of cuisine- most were similar to already existing foods in Gamindustri, but Earth's food still seemed so unique. Each one had their own special twist to it, making them real popular in comparison to Gamindustri's own foodstuff.

Of course, they all paled in comparison to the superior fenrir fluff puff. That was a fact that could not be challenged.

By the time the former guild member arrived at the scene of the vehicle exhibit, Nepgear was already sitting inside the commander's seat of some armored vehicle that IF couldn't recognize.

Compa stood behind a red tape barrier alongside dozens of other people, all pleasantly surprised to see their CPU candidate messing around.

"What even is that thing?" IF asked as she crept up to Compa's side.

"I dunno…" The cream-haired girl responded, not taking her blissfully content eyes off Nepgear, who started examining the turret mounted atop the vehicle. "The name should be on a plaque somewhere. I think."

And sure enough, with not even half a second of searching, there was a panel in front of the vehicle with a name tag.

"An AMX-10P… never heard of it." IF said to herself as she placed her hands on her hips.

"Well, you're not the only one. This stuff goes right over my head!" The nurse said confidently.

Nepgear found a way to open the a hatch, and slid inside with glee. Some funny sounding clanking sounds could be heard from the outside, then the turret started spinning.

It just kinda started spinning with a mechanical whirr to it, and Nepgear's tiny voice could be heard shouting it's lungs out from within the APC.

"AHHHH! I think I broke it!" She cried out with her voice filtered by the mechanized vehicle as the turret started spinning faster.

The people in the crowd started either laughing or freaking out, and some screamed and started running away comedically.

But then a huge clank was heard, a clank that resembled a mortar going off, a clank that sounded more like a thump than a clank.

And the whole area surrounding the vehicle exhibit was filled with smoke.

People started coughing and freaking out further, unable to see through the thick grey cloud. Fortunately, the turret stopped spinning, and finally settled down. A localized chaos started to brew, with dozens of people in the area being blinded, and the neighboring booths effectively shut down for the time being.

 _Oh shit._ IF looked around her frantically, seeing Compa get spooked and clumsily slip onto the floor. She would've gone over to help her up, but there were bigger things to attend to. _We better get out of here before things get out of hand!_ Thought IF, mantling over the red tape.

IF ran to the APC and leaped to the top, nearly slipping due to the poor visibility, and scrambled for the hatch.

But when Nepgear threw herself out of the top of a hatch, IF stopped searching and instantly grabbed the candidate's wrist.

"Damn it 'Gear, what did you think you were doing in there?" IF muttered as she hoisted Nepgear out of the machine.

She coughed twice before speaking, giving the former guild member a guilty look. "Uh… having fun?"

"You're real funny, you know that?" IF said with an awkward smile creeping onto her lips.

Once they had hobbled off the roof and onto the ground, the Wind Walker of Gamindustri pushed through the smoke in search of Compa.

She wasn't hard to miss, as she stood up innocently with her arms extended, meandering about in circles and calling out for her friends.

IF pulled over by Compa and ordered her to follow. Without hesitation, she let out a shrill _eek_ and clutched the back of Nepgear's shirt for dear life.

Like train they walked out of the smoke, Nepgear holding IF's shirt and Compa hanging on to Nepgear's.

IF figured that they had enough fun at the booths. Too much fun, in the case of the CPU candidate. This might be as good a time to leave as any… they already screwed enough things up as it is.

Next stop, the concert. IF hoped things would go better there than here.

* * *

Vert felt a wave of comfort wash over her from head to toe as she eased into a red, cushioned chair. She sat with her eyes closed, inhaling a lungful of Planeptune's cool, air-conditioned air.

With her arms on the soft armrests, she finally opened her weary eyes, turning her head to her right. There lied a massive window the size of the entire wall, giving her and all the other occupants of the blue-lined room a glorious view of the stadium and all of it's numerous occupants. The stadium had been filled to the brim, and aside from the girls in the VIP room, everyone sat out in the open in long, long rows surrounding the showstage.

The stadium was so large that floating screens were set up in places further from the stage, giving people who were too far away a chance to see 5pb's face.

The Goddess of Leanbox dug her shoes into the fluffy blue rug, taking yet another deep breath of the chilled air. In front of her, lying in the center of the VIP room, was a wide oval table. Atop it was a vibrant display of local flowers, giving the room a welcoming feel. Around the table were all the CPUs of Gamindustri, all eyes trained on the window and out to the massive crowds flanking the show stage.

Rom and Ram, the only other people in the room, fussed with one another on a long couch opposite the window. They were pretty excited for today, but anticipation and eagerness led them to stay up much too late the night before, leaving them cranky and tired.

Blanc has long since given up on getting them to be quiet, and sat with her arms crossed atop the table, chin resting inside her arms.

"Doesn't look like Nepgear, IF and Compa are going to make it." Blanc said, a little bored.

Noire sighed, eyeing the flowers from top to bottom, checking if they were going to be any different than they were ten minutes earlier. "Doesn't look like it. I was actually looking forward to talking to IF."

"What for?" Blanc blinked, pulling her head out of her arms. "Kinda strange for you to think of her all of a sudden."

"I-It's none of your business." Noire huffed, running a hand through her hair. She adjusted her body in the chair to face the stage, a screen appearing not far from the VIP room and showing 5pb rise to the stage. She looked confident, as if she were the exact same as a number of years ago, when all the Goddesses had come together to see her sing. That was long ago, long ago.

A rush of excitement swelled up inside Purple Heart at the sight of the familiar idol. The memory of that last concert played out in her head as if it were happening right now, images of jet planes painting a heart in the sky, crowds cheering around her. Warm thoughts.

Just as a piece of her other form started to show, wanting to reveal itself and break her hard-fought HDD, she shook it off. Useless memories, she thought hastily. But another, less vocal piece of her craved that long forsaken past in a hard silence.

Blanc, used to Noire's stubborn behavior, dropped the subject and glued her eyes to the blue-haired idol in the distance.

Vert wanted to ask about what happened to Blanc yesterday. She had heard about something terrible happening and bringing Lowee's attack to a halt. As Blanc isn't the type to stop for anything, especially in combat, the sudden halt is definitely cause for alarm.

In fact, the only thing _to_ talk about was the war. You can't ask how someone was without the war being brought up. You can't ask if someone had done anything interesting recently without bringing up the war. The war was omnipresent and omnipotent.

Vert wanted to talk about anything aside from the war. In theory, this was supposed to be a nice way to catch up. But in theory, it seems like things might end out differently than anticipated. It was unfortunate, that Vert knew, but what could she do about it?

But then the rumble of a collection of hurried footsteps swelled up inside the room, causing all eyes to turn to the door and for Rom and Ram to stop bickering.

The door crashed open, and in stumbled IF, Compa and Nepgear, all panting heavily with their clothes stained a slight grey. IF and Compa stood in the doorway for a moment, and Compa waved towards the table. Nepgear took a deep breath as she made her way over to the couch, taking in the cool air with a rush of gratefulness.

"Oh my goodness!" Nepgear gasped, standing with her hands clasped. "I'm so, so sorry for being late!"

Vert laughed and Noire sighed, but all the girls smiled.

"Where have I seen this before?" Purple Heart mused.

"Uhh…" Nepgear stammered, racking her brain for a memory that just wouldn't come to mind.

Vert shifted herself in her chair, facing towards her favorite CPU candidate. "Maybe it was when you came up with the syrup the other day." She teased, giving Nepgear's brain a jump start.

"Oh," The girl in question looked down in embarrassment. "Yeah…"

"She's a predictable person." IF said, casually making her way to a chair at the table.

"But that's not a bad thing." The Goddess of Planeptune was quick to defend her sister. "Not necessarily."

"I guess," Blanc sighed, looking out the window. "To an extent."

"Gee, you guys…" Nepgear flushed red with embarrassment, not wanting to be the topic of conversation.

"Gee Gee, come here!" Compa said lazily on the couch, opening her arms out wide and beckoning Nepgear in for a hug. "I wanna suffocate you!" She finished with a grin.

"Oh, goodness…" The purple-haired girl in question gave up, falling down into the couch and letting Compa pamper her.

After a second, Compa pulled back. "Gee Gee, lighten up!"

"I-"

Nepgear started, but was rudely interrupted by the sound of a suddenly booming guitar.

"Hello everyone!" 5pb greeted confidently with both hands outstretched. "Thanks for coming today!"

The crowd went ballistic with hands flying in the air and hundreds of people cheering with glee. People watching on their televisions quieted down and hushed other members of their families as they settled down, the long wait coming to an end.

"I know you've all been waiting patiently for such a long time, so thank you waiting!" 5pb said sincerely, nodding her head. "But before we start, I'd like to address something quickly."

Raging instruments playing heart-pounding music in the background quieted down, setting the tone for the idol to speak.

"I know many of you heard the news, and a lot of you might be worried about me after what happened the other day." Her voice echoed through the lively stadium as she paused. "And I'm happy to say that I'm A-Okay, thanks to the help of Purple Heart and Green Heart! They took me in when I needed it most, so give them a big round of applause!"

The crowd went ballistic once again, proving them to be big fans of the idol. _Thank you Purple Heart! Thank you Green Heart! I LOVE YOU 5PB!_ The people shouted out loud, their voices getting lost in the crowd.

"I'd also like to thank the guy who was there and saved me. Without Nathan, I might not be here right now. I don't know if you're listening, but if you are, thank you so much!"

The crowd didn't go as wild as the sound of someone other than them getting to meet their waifu, but still cheered begrudgingly. At least, the ones without a 5pb body pillow.

"Now, without further ado, let's start this concert off with one of my favorites, Dimension Tripper!"

And the music came on with a triumphant roar, the drums slamming into action and the instruments spewing out notes like it were the last song in existence. When the idol's voice pierced the air, singing confident and precise, the crowd bloomed into pure, unfiltered excitement bearing no rhyme or reason.

And the people, the people fell in love.

* * *

Vert wasn't having any of it. Of course the music was nice, the feeling of being around her friends astounding, but there was just a piece of her, a piece that made itself known. That piece couldn't be described with words. It was a thorn in her side, a press at her gut, a ringing in her ears that all condensed and vicariously drowned out the concert through the eyes of absolutely no one.

It just wouldn't go away, and she frowned.

Vert didn't want to stay here. She needed a minute to clear her mind.

She pushed herself out of her chair, getting to her feet and walked to the door without a second thought.

When she reached the door, Purple Heart spoke up, curious at Vert's sudden movement.

"Where are you going?"

The song picked up speed and energy, accelerating the process in which Vert's heart beat.

This was a question that needed only a short answer, any realistic answer would do. The Goddess of Leanbox took a sharp breath, her blonde hair jumping at her snap to face the speaker.

"I just need," Vert looked around the room, and her eyes landed on Nepgear, sitting between Rom and Ram as they propped themselves atop her to get a better view of the concert. "A breath of fresh air." She concluded with a brisk nod before turning around again, walking straight for the door.

Before Purple Heart could speak again Vert was gone, out the door, out of sight but not out of mind, until the song picked up that is, when all eyes, ears and minds were on 5pb and no one else. Vert was rushed, flustered and in a bit of a daze as she marched down brightly lit halls reminiscent of a baseball stadium. She flew down stairs with her arms at her side, not losing speed nor gaining any as she met an incline or decline, her head clouded by incandescent thoughts about things that couldn't be effectively thought about due to the pounding of the song.

Even when she pushed past the turnstile and through the front gate she couldn't think right, like her mind were a streetlight shrouded in a thick fog and just couldn't shine through. She couldn't bear the music, she couldn't bear the distraction.

As Vert entered the city limits, leaving the parking lot and heading straight past the empty noodle shop on the corner, the music faded.

The music was a distraction from everything that was going on. The sadness and the killing and the war. It could be defended by saying that everyone needed a break once in awhile, and sure in any other circumstance Vert would've agreed with that posture, but this was completely different, at least in her mind. After how much it had affected her and so many others, she felt it would be wrong to sit idle as so much wrong was going on in the world, so much that needed to be addressed.

So mu-

Vert stopped dead in her tracks, a force like a soft wall thrust against her chest and stomach, a brick clashing with her face before recoiling as though it too were hurt. Vert squeezed her eyes shut and drew a hand to her head to press against the injury.

Another pair of footsteps scrambled away from her, just for a moment, before coming to a halt. Did she hit a person?

"Oh man! I'm really sorry about that miss," The wall, now a blue-jacketed person looking ever so slightly down on her while wielding a brown shopping bag and a receipt, spoke rapidly in search of her forgiveness. "I wasn't looking up, you see, totally my fault… Vert?"

The Goddess in question looked up, opened her eyes and took in full view of the person before her. She blushed at her own clumsiness.

"O-oh… Nate, it's you," She started, rubbing the back of her neck. "I can't say I was looking where I was going either. What are you doing here?"

"Me?" He looked at her, then down at his brown paper bag. "I tried to go shopping, that's what I was doing. Now I'm trying to make sure that I didn't get cheated out or anything with this receipt, but the middle of the sidewalk doesn't look like the best place to do that."

"Apparently." Vert nodded with a small chuckle at his mistake.

"What led you out here, into the literal middle of nowhere?"

"What? This isn't the middle of nowhere at all." Vert looked around her, seeing the life of a fairly suburban shopping district surround her. "But I guess there really isn't all that much here aside from shops."

"Yeah… I guess you could say that." Nathan studied Vert's face for a moment, eye to eye, eye to mouth, shoulders, cheeks and forehead. "You look a bit… out of it. You alright there, Vert?"

Her eyes snapped open, becoming fully shaken out of her leisure tranquility. "I'm fine, thank you for asking. And to answer your question, I'm out here for some air, that's all." She sighed. "I was just at 5pb's concert and felt crowded, that's all."

Nathan knew that wasn't the exact reason why, but couldn't tell what the real reason was. He decided not to push it. "Makes sense. I'm not all that big a fan of concerts myself, but I was a little interested about this one, being honest."

"How so?" Vert tilted her head, gaining confidence as she regained her senses. "What makes this one better than the rest?"

"Well, not better," He smirked at her interest. "But I've never gone to one before. I dunno, I'd never go to a concert alone. Kinda seems awkward to me." He eyed Vert with a degree of suspicion, but the recipient didn't pick it up.

"We could go now," Vert spoke instantly, not quite thinking about the consequences of her actions. "I still have my ticket and I'd be willing to lend you my company."

"Now? Like, it's the middle of the damn thing. You sure we can still get in?" Nate asked, stuffing the receipt into his paper bag. He was free for the rest of the day, as he always was, but would it really be a good idea to go to a heavily guarded facility full of people who can recognize him? Probably not.

"Of course. And it's only just started, so we won't be missing much. Come now!" She smiled, turning around and beckoning for him to follow. "It's not far from here."

"Not far from here…" The boy looked up with weary eyes, up at the stadium that loomed above the smaller houses like a mountain in the background.

"No, it's not far." She kept walking, feet clicking against the sidewalk but the sound met Nathan's ears amidst the sea of other urban sounds as his eyes were glued to her. "You coming?"

"Uh," He nervously looked around himself, but then the last bit of worry was drowned out by a newfound sense of belonging. "Yeah!" He said, hurrying to her side with the bag swaying at his side.

* * *

The two stood in the back, fairly far from the stage. Vert stood on his left, and Nathan on her right. They were wedged right in the middle of a hundred people, most of them shouting while waving, making Nathan feel uncomfortable.

"Geez, I had no idea we would be standing." The boy spoke loudly, as to not let his voice get caught in the song. It was some sort of upbeat pop song about love that he didn't quite understand due to the amount of people screaming around him alongside the scent of grease and sweat.

"What, would you be sitting at a concert?" Vert teased with a laugh, body caught by the beat of the song.

"I guess not, now that you say it like that." A sudden crash of instruments forced Nathan to flinch. Why did he flinch?

"You're so weird." The blonde chuckled.

The rest of the concert went by in a breeze. Songs played, people shouted, danced or tried to talk to one another, which is what Nathan wanted to do as he found out that concerts really weren't for him, but he enjoyed the company of a stranger.

Was Vert a stranger? Pretty much. More of an acquaintance now, but still a stranger. He wanted to call her a friend, but it felt too wrong to call a Gamindustrian a friend. It felt wrong, it felt like it would be a grave wrong. Of course it wasn't, and he knew it was just his instincts kicking in, but when were his instincts wrong?

Probably a lot of times. But he couldn't think of any- the song was just so loud.

It was a drug, kinda like alcohol. Helps you forget. Helps you not think. But with every drug, every phase, or just about everything in life, it comes to an end.

And the more you fell into the drug, the harder it is to part and face the real world again.

* * *

A guttural, primitive groan made by that of a dying animal.

He was upside down, and his hands stung as though they had been used to shield him from a fall to the sidewalk. And they looked like it too, when he opened his eyes he saw them blooded and cut haphazardly, a terrible sight that made him retch.

Another groan, this one a cry for help mixed with tears- shallow yet breaking and with bleats that ran sharper than a bloodied bayonet.

"F-f-f-f-fu-u-u-u-uck!" It was another cry, not angry, but of self pity. It was self pity in the present, not a wish for the past but a hatred of self, a look at the broken body and the wish it could be changed but not in the past, for the past was gone, over, a distant memory, but a wish it could be fixed with a good deed now.

"I can't feel anything. I can't feel anything I can't feel anything I can't-" A repeating hiss filled the overturned humvee, and it wasn't Garland's. "I can't feel I can't feel I can't-"

Garland shot his eyes open, seeing nothing but a killer darkness. The headlights were off, and when he switched them on he saw an empty, derelict parking lot.

There were no sounds except for the primitive, guttural moans of Stacker, lying down on the ceiling, hands cocooning his left cheek.

"Jesus!" Garland cried, reaching for the release of his seatbelt. It budged, and his helmet smacked the ceiling. It took him a few seconds to rouse himself awake after that, but eventually he managed to right himself up on the surface, worming himself around.

He had to get out of this car.

Garland reached for the upside-down doorknob, only to realize that it was completely fucked over, twisted and ruined alongside the rest of the door. He painfully turned himself around, aligning his feet with the door and kicked. It came off with a crash, and skidded across the asphalt parking lot in a horrendously loud bang.

"I can't feel I can't feel I can't feel-" Stocker kept muttering to himself over and over.

"I got you buddy, hang in there!" Garland whimpered as he crawled out of the car, his shins and thighs overcome with a blinding pain. He must've busted his upper legs in the crash.

Garland, still on the nighttime ground, reached for the passenger door, only to find that there was none, making it all the easier for him to pull his friend to safety. Except that it still wasn't easy, as Garland couldn't quite get to his feet without facing blisteringly fierce pain.

He reached his arms out, grabbing his friend by the armpits and pulled.

He pulled and pulled and pulled, and soon enough Stocker was out, lying like a snake beside the humvee.

"Alright, let's see here…" Garland pulled out a flashlight from his vest, only to find it was broken when he tried flipping it on and off. "Dammnit!"

He couldn't see anything but shadows on Stocker, so Garland was forced to pull him over to the headlights of the car. Another handful of painful minutes later and Stocker was illuminated. Now Garland wished he wasn't.

Stocker's entire left side of his face was burned, and much of his left arm was scarred as well.

"Hey, hey," Garland said, patting Stocker on the chest. "Can you hear me alright?"

"I- I- I- I can't hear you, man, I think I, I think I busted up my ear, bad, man." The wounded man stammered in between pants.

The kneeling soldier had no idea where to begin. Would he bandage his cheek? Would he wrap something around his head? His heart started to beat as he reached for a bandage, only to find none.

"Sit tight, I'll be right back." He told Stocker, knowing that he couldn't move from that spot.

Garland struggled to get to his feet, gritting his teeth as he used to overturned humvee for support.

He made his way around the car, getting down on his knees on two occasion. One to pick up his rifle, and the second to get into the trunk of the car to retrieve medical supplies.

Most of the trunk was spilled out onto the ground, and it was hard to see in the dark, but he managed to get most of what he needed before he started to clamber his way back around the car.

As he kneeled with bandages in hand, he started to hear footsteps behind him. Two sets of footsteps.

"What do we have here?" One voice matching that of a gruff teenager, spoke.

"Not something you see every day." The other said, this one softer.

The gruff voice whistled solemnly. "That guy looks pretty beat up."

"Yeah. Wonder what happened." The other one said.

Garland was silent, wrapping two rolls of pink bandages around his friend's head as he hissed. Then he turned his head around, and saw the two people in the light of the car.

They wore black hoodies with the hood up and darkly colored pants- it was hard to see in the darkness. They each held a blunt weapon of some sort, but, similarly to the color of their pants, he couldn't tell what the weapons were in the dark.

"Listen," Garland said sternly, pulling his rifle closer to him. "What do you kids want?"

They chuckled. "What I want?" The gruff one replied. "I don't know what I want. I can see you need help, though. That's plain to see."

"Now… five hundred credits and we'll call an ambulance." The gruff one continued.

Garland wanted to smile, but really couldn't while looking at Stocker. "Thanks for the… offer, but I got none of your credits on me. No ambulances, anyways." He finished bandaging, and settled his eyes down on his rifle.

"Well then, I guess we'll be on our way then." The gruff one huffed, raising his weapon and resting it on his shoulder. The other man sighed, fumbling with his weapon in his hands.

But as they started to move, something was watching. And that something saw the movement, seeing it as something else.

And that something made a decision to act.

* * *

 **Sorry about the long wait, things happen.**

 **With the advent of Discord, ANs no longer have to be long, and instead things can be said there. Code is still on my profile, come on in!**


	14. Egress North

Planeptune's Basilicom. The tip of the spire was reserved only for the Goddesses of Gamindustri, and normally Purple Heart wouldn't be the only one to be there.

But now, one day after the Victory Parade, Purple Heart was feeling antsy, circling the table in the center of the room over and over again as if it were an inescapable orbit. The early morning sunlight rose from the east, over the mountains separating Planeptune from Lastation, and filtered through the glass walls of the Basilicom's spire. The light painted the pristine buildings of Planeptune, their white coats being draped in gold.

"...Blanc, you must speak to me as soon as you can." Purple Heart held a phone to her ear, her feet dancing across the rug floor as she glared nervously out the windows surrounding her. "Something has come up about your operation two days ago, something that I must discuss with you as soon as it is allowed, if at all possible." She paused in both step and voice, letting her head sway over to the center of the table, where the flowers from the concert's VIP room laid. Beside them were several papers, files and a tablet, all detailing troop movements and the status of the recovered Kyanite on it's way to Gamindustri.

The Goddess of Lowee was most definitely on her way to Earth. Something about her solemn attitude after the concert made it clear that she was going back. Why so soon? Neptune had her suspicions, but none of them were confirmed. Her own intelligence was getting mixed messages on something catastrophic that happened in New Hampshire. Was it an explosion? Was it two explosions? Was there a major battle? The only thing that could be known for certain was that there were things, secret things at work that could change the tide of battle. And without adequate intelligence, she would be the one to fail in the end. But that wouldn't happen. Not while she was still standing.

With the seconds piling on, Purple Heart struggled to find a way to conclude her voice message. "I hope to hear from you soon." And with that line the CPU closed, then tossed her phone onto the table, letting it slide a few inches before coming to a halt. That felt like a poor conclusion to her. She wanted it to be reminiscent of who she was, and that departure was just sad. And that reflected onto herself.

Neptune sighed, letting her long purple braids sway at her body as she swung her head towards the city she worked so hard to build.

And when she saw it's glamor, it's beauty and how complete it looked, she felt a renewed sense of purpose. A newfound, rejuvenated desire to work harder and make it better.

The CPU turned around and pulled out a chair at the table, sitting down at her documents and tablet. A quick glance over the whole situation gave her the chills, seeing how heavy losses were mounting in the southeastern United States.

In the beginning of the war, when she held the advantage, things were so easy. Compared to how organised and stalwart her opponent was now, the past seemed like child's play. It seemed to be a game, where the beginning was merely a tutorial and now things were rapidly increasing in difficulty.

That thought was reinforced by the fact that time and time again that going against an organized foe only met a drawn out, bloody defeat. Their tactics were different, refined by generations of warfare. At least, that's what they knew from the information that Gamindustri's armies recovered over the past month. All that meant was that we would have to adapt and crush them in a way that was uniquely Gamindustrian.

Purple Heart set both her elbows atop the table, letter her chin rest upon her palms as her head slid down her forearms and down to the table. She sighed, distressed at the amount of thinking she would have to do.

Of course, there were military advisors and army theorists down in Planeptune's CENTCOM. They could take over all this micromanaging for her. Those generals, when pooling their heads together, orchestrated some of the most successful campaigns and operations of the war so far, such as the EMP attacks and landings in the Alps.

But if she gave them control, it wouldn't be her victory, now would it…

It would be their victory. In the end Planeptune would turn out on top, but it wouldn't be her doing. Just like back then. Back when Histoire did everything for her.

Ugh.

Neptune brushed away all those thoughts as soon as they had begun to take root. She wouldn't go back, no. Allowing others to take control again would be a sign of weakness… right?

After a series of bickering inside her head, Purple Heart decided that she would give Histoire a call. Tell her to tell those theorists to get to work. Earn their pay. After all, they did work for her. Maybe it would be her victory in a way.

At least, that's what she told herself, time and time again.

* * *

"The catastrophic loss of Kyushu to Planeptune in such a short amount of time shocked Asian governments who were able to catch word of it." A pause, enticing the listener's imagination. "Remember, this was still when Earth was struck down by a worldwide attack on their electronics. And without communication, things went down, fast."

Nepgear lied down on the top bunk of her old bunkbed, earbuds linked wirelessly to her N-Gear sitting upon her chest, rising and lowering with every breath she took. Sometimes her eyes were open, sometimes they were closed, vividly picturing what the announcer said. The curtains to her room were closed, and the whole room was covered in darkness. Made her feel drowsy. Helped her picture things, helped lift her off her bed and into a whole other world.

"Honestly, I don't know much about what went down in Asia or Europe. Hell, I don't even know much about what went down in America, either. That goes to show how devastating the loss of electronics was to the people of Earth." The announcer paused, then continued with a more tame and hushed voice, as if he were speaking directly to Nepgear. A secret, she thought.

"I remember that, at school or just at home on the internet, I would come across these books and stories about what the apocalypse would be like. Dystopian novels, that's what those were. All about how society would collapse to zombies, nukes or some terrible disaster and turn into a wasteland. They always fascinated me, and after reading a bunch of them, I eventually came to the conclusion that the most catastrophic event that would coincidentally be the most likely way society would end, would be the end of communication and the internet in one way or another."

"That's kinda what happened here. Loss of all electronics and communication. Left us blind, left us at the mercy of whatever happened to an individual rather than a population."

The CPU candidate of Planeptune opened her drowsy eyes at the sound of footsteps outside her door, breaking her immersion.

The announcer cleared his throat, but before he could continue, someone knocked on Nepgear's door. She immediately tore off her earbuds and tucked them under her pillow as fast as she could, but it was too late. Her sister entered the room, letting in a line of light that nearly blinded Nepgear, forcing her to squint.

"Nep junior, why is it so dark in here?" Purple Heart teased as she stepped into her sister's room. "It's in the middle of the day, why would you be napping…" The sight of her sister's hasty scramble sent her heart plummeting, arms drooping to her sides.

"Sis…" Neptune stepped into the room, her voice increasing in a crescendo of suspicion. "What- why-" She tried to start, but deep down in her heart she couldn't find words. She knew. "Nepgear?"

"Nothing, nothing!" Nepgear's beet-red face squeaked, partially out of fright but mostly, mostly out of fear. Fear of disappointing her only family. Her back stood up as straight as if she were a ventriloquist's puppet to her emotions crackling in the upheaval of violence, none of her words her own in the end. "Nothing!"

Neptune scoffed with her mouth wide open, darting forwards with a sturdy arm outstretched. It's aim was true, and despite the protests of her sister, Purple Heart pulled out a tiny, insignificant radio.

There was silence for a moment as Nepgear's heart froze in place, arms and legs stuck to the terror.

Oh goodness no, she thought over and over and over again, unable to see anything but the radio. The disgusted, disappointed yet calm expression painted on her older sister's face twitched.

Deep, deep breathing. Slow, hard to hear, not daring to make the slightest hint of a sound. She screwed up, now, didn't she?

Neptune's lower lip quivered, formulating a sentence without a beginning, processing, processing. Her shoulders were raised, tense, but her fingers were weak, the tips of each one not quite pressing hard enough into the cheap plastic.

She was getting emotional.

She couldn't get emotional. She had to be strong in front of her sister, she had to be a leader. And to be a leader, she had to be controlled. Smart. Able to identify what's wrong when what's wrong seems like it's right.

Neptune took a moment to herself, a moment to breathe.

"It's my fault." Purple Heart said. Her head dipped down, but just enough for her eyes to be invisible to Nepgear.

Nepgear wanted to ask why and comfort her sibling, but in the end she said nothing.

"I let this continue, and I should have seen this coming." Purple Heart inhaled sharply but silently, and looked her sister with eyes that reflected maturity. "You can be quite curious when it comes to these kinds of things."

Neptune set the radio down easy on the bottom bunk, then eased her arms down onto the mattress where her sister lay.

"I might've let this happen, but you should've known better." The older sibling urged. "Trusted me that this was bad for you."

Nepgear nodded in agreement, not taking her eyes off her counterpart's.

"Sis," Nepgear began. "I'm sorry I let you down." Her thoughts were drawn to what the announcer said, then she thought of the words her sister told her in the past. About why she couldn't be told of what's going on out there, that it would be too much for her to handle.

That always infuriated her. She never voiced her opinions, but she knew that she was more than capable to handle just about anything. Why wouldn't her sister trust her with anything? She was getting older and more mature with each passing day. To begin with, she was always considered to be more mature than Neptune at every level… at least until she changed. To Nepgear, it seemed almost instantaneous. A big separation between the past and the present.

She didn't want to hold opinions against her sister, but to her, it was undoubtedly a bad change. From then on, she was to be the little sister. Neptune was the adult. And Nepgear hated that distinction. No more of that sister-sister relationship she craved so dearly.

"You didn't let me down, Nepgear. I let myself down, really."

Those last words hung over the room like looming storm clouds, sitting within reach yet so, so far away. They were omnipresent, they sagged in Nepgear's stomach like a boulder, sitting there without damage yet being the only thing in her body that she could feel that caused her pain.

Neptune turned away, towards the door. The radio sat on the bed, sinking ever so slightly into the cushion.

"Sis, I want you to come with me instead of Vert when the time comes." A pause. "To Earth." Neptune said, refreshed. "If it comes."

That didn't shock the lavender-haired girl, who merely rubbed her arms together, which just so happened to be of biggest, yet least captivating interest to her eyes at the moment.

It took her a second to respond, and when she did all that was said was a sharp confirmation.

Neptune breathed easier with that knowledge, letter her attention to be placed into the light of the doorway. She said goodbye, and bid her sister goodwill.

The younger sister did the same.

And when the door closed behind the CPU of Planeptune, and all the light was snuffed out of her old bedroom, she shook her head in a vain attempt to clear it, which only made things worse.

In the most mature and professional way would the Goddess have to deal with the issue at hand.

Her actions had to represent herself.

Some options were cleared away immediately, that being a military solution. She needed something quieter, something that wouldn't cause more of a dip in shares than there already was.

Maybe she could call upon the Guild, much like she had in the past.

* * *

"I really can't blame you for keeping this a secret from Neptune." Noire sighed, legs crossed at a corner cafe along the banks of the Charles River. From her seat she could see most of the opposite bank without and sort of obstruction, save a line of trees planted along the sidewalk or a car or two parked along the side of the road, which was cleared of both snow and of debris during the occupation.

The cafe was in good repair, as the neighborhood they were in had not sustained much house-to-house combat in relation to the rest of the city. The place still held the aroma of chilled sugar and tea, a welcome invitation that was forwarded onto the two Goddesses seeking to catch up in private.

"She would've gone ballistic or something." The twin-tailed Goddess rolled her eyes, thinking off her purple counterpart. "You know how she is."

"I don't know about ballistic," Blanc uttered quietly, holding in her right hand a cup of chamomile tea. "But she could do something irrational."

"You really think so?" Noire asked with her eyes wide open. "I know that's what you might think in the past, but she's put an effort into reform- in that regard her effort rivals my own."

Blanc gave off a near-invisible smile. Some people don't change, no matter how much time passes.

"You always get ahead of yourself, you know that?" Blanc smirked, but just a bit.

"What?" Noire frowned, almost spilling a drink of her own. "I- I do not! Getting ahead, and by extension thinking ahead, is one of the most important virtues of a well-to-do Goddess. Always expect the unexpected." The Goddess of Lastation leaned forwards, almost getting out of her seat in her defense.

"Maybe you should've thought ahead and demonstrated what a great CPU you are when those bombs dropped. "

Silence.

 _Did I go too far?_ Thought Noire as she slowly receded back into a more collected seating position.

Blanc's eyebrows danced up and down, not quite sure where to settle as her lips curled.

"You can't expect something as unimaginable as that to just pop up out of nowhere!" She snapped. "W- What can you even do when facing something that you can't see? Shoot it? Hit it? That was a missile unlike anything we have ever seen. And- And!"

Blanc's fists tightened, her right hand ready to snap her cup into shards at the slightest hint of any provocation.

"You just say that if I were more… _Prepared_ …" The CPU of Lowee snarled. "I could've just swatted away the deaths of a chunk of my army? Not just that, but maybe me as well?"

"No- that's not what I meant at all-" Noire stammered, raising her hands in protest.

"What did you mean, huh? What can you do to make sure we are safe from that type of monstrosity? I'll be damned if we don't see something like that again. Go on, tell me what a mature CPU you are."

"W- well…" Noire righted herself up, launching herself into thought. "We could target the places where those missiles are held. Take and keep them for ourselves."

Blanc rebuked that immediately. "You think that's feasible? How many missiles are out there? Do you know where they are? That will take way too long, and I bet they have this type of attack in mind already."

"Hey!" Noire frowned, not backing down. "You think I know everything? I don't, thank you very much. And to that respect I'd like to know what _you_ think we can do."

After a deep breath, the white CPU spoke. "What we can do, huh." Blanc thrust her elbow onto the table, and propped her chin atop it, thinking. She was calmer, but she was not going to forget Noire's hasty, crude and frankly insensitive words. "How about we try and decapitate them. A big blow to their center of command, that way they won't be able to make any major actions like that again."

"That would only work if they have a center of command. And besides, that would be too easy. Not worthy of an endgame fight." Noire huffed in retort.

"And that's the thing." Blanc continued, getting excited. "Vert and I have discovered that there's a building in New York city called the United Nations building or something. And there's also a building in the District of Columbia called the Pentagon. I know as a fact that the Pentagon is, in fact, one of their largest military centers. The United Nations building is a mystery to me, but it still seems like an important place to consider."

Noire blinked, almost laughingly. "Then it's settled." She smiled confidently, both palms on the table. "I have two airborne divisions available in reserve. I was planning on deploying them to reinforce us in Europe, but this is an opportunity that cannot be missed."

"Now you're talking." Blanc agreed. "I only have an armor division, but they're reportedly having some logistical issues concerning teleportation."

"Hmm." The black haired CPU sighed in disappointment. "Now, I don't think we have enough of an advantage to guarantee victory just yet." She looked Blanc in the eyes. "Do you think we should call upon Planeptune?"

The girl in question paused to think, then responded. "It would be for the best. I'm certain that she has some groups available for such a major operation."

Noire could feel the tips of her fingers tingle with excitement. This was something that could seriously turn the tide, and possibly be the blow that they needed to regain an initiative advantage. If this was as major a place as she hoped it was, this could be what they needed to bring Earth, or at least North America, back into the beginning stages of the war: disoriented and unable to fight back.

"I'll give her a call." Noire stated, pulling out her personal smartphone.

"No, no," Blanc held up a hand as she held up her own. "She's given me a few calls already. It would be best for me to see what she wants." She stood up and out of her chair, and begun to drift towards the interior of the cafe.

"If you insist." Lastation's CPU budged, and reclined back into her chair.

As Blanc initiated cross-dimensional communication, Noire gazed across the Charles River.

It didn't seem to be all that clear up close, but from far away it gave off a soothing aura. The frozen edges were tickled by a slowly flowing center, small waves lapping at it's concrete edges. Snow sat frigid and frozen across the ice, atop the tips of trees, along the grass and laid on the roofs of freezing cars.

Across the river buildings stood tall, not as many skyscrapers as there were in the center of the city, but still it appeared silent and majestic. It was so different here- the architecture, the scenery, the air, the history.

And in her eyes reflected the images of tall, brick structures that made up the Massachussetts Institute of Technology and some of its related buildings. One of which, if she had looked much, much closer, supported something, or someone, more than what meets the eye.

* * *

"Pinpoint one, this is Hawg one. Single A-10C at 7,000. Armed with AGM 45D, AGM 45H, 1150, Gun."

A soldier laid with his stomach on the cold, hard ceiling of a tall brick building. From his position between two air vents he had a perfect line of sight to his elusive targets, mingling carelessly inside a cafe.

His radio crackled into his ear, and his mission of tense waiting and mind-numbing hiding was finally coming to it's conclusion.

"Time on station is zero + fifteen.

Available for tasking. What do you have for me?"

Pinpoint, the callsign of an army JTAC breathed deeply, his heart beating faster than he wanted. With each breath came another puff of fog, gliding out his mouth or nostrils and out, over the edge of the building.

"Hawg one, this is Pinpoint one. Type two in effect. Advise when ready for nine-line."

The patient man spoke stolidly, his eyes glued to his rangefinder set up in a tripod front of him, each one of it's stokes jutting into a thin layer of snow.

His radio crackled like the voice of a witch.

"Ready to copy."

After quickly checking off everything on his checklist, Pinpoint squinted his blue eyes through his rangefinder one last time to make sure his information was correct.

One of the targets, "White" had just gotten up out of her chair, phone in hand. The situation was always changing, but no matter what, this was an opportunity they could not afford to miss.

Pinpoint cleared his throat before speaking.

"Line is as follows:

One, two, three, not applicable,

Four - three five feet MSL.

Five - target is a white corner cafe along the banks of the Charles River.

Six - not applicable.

Seven - infrared pointer."

In his left hand, the JTAC rolled a military-grade IR laser pointer between his fingers.

"Eight - at least 300 meters south of my location marked by an IR strobe, target is across the river.

Nine - egress North.

Advise when ready for remarks and further talk- on."

With that done with, Pinpoint lied eagerly in wait of his next move. Everything had to be perfect in these types of scenarios.

The pilot, Hawg one, spoke after a handful of seconds. "Ready to copy remarks."

The snow started to trickle down. Cloud cover was getting worse by the second, hampering visibility as time went on. This wouldn't be good.

"Use AGM 65D, four rounds. Use gun, 200 rounds."

Pinpoint advised in accordance with the changing situation. AGM 65 missiles were TV-guided, but the D variant could be used in both nighttime and poor weather conditions. He also requested four rounds, mostly because if one is the kill shot, the others would bury his high-value targets in rubble. The gun run would be for insurance.

Around ten seconds later, Pinpoint spoke into his radio again.

"Report IP inbound."

Hawg one responded clearly, his voice getting firm.

"IP inbound."

"Hawg one, continue."

The JTAC's heart beated faster and faster.

"Hawg one, sparkle."

That was his cue. Pinpoint drew his laser pointer up, and flicked it on. The light was invisible to the naked eye, but the instruments onboard the A-10 could pick it up easily.

"Sparkle."

As he responded, Pinpoint peered through his rangefinder. "White" had sat back down, and "Black" had stood up. They were talking about something important by their expressions and body language.

His radio shattered the silence again, the pilot bringing him an update.

"Hawg one, contact sparkle."

Adrenaline started to flow through his veins, heating him up. He became immune to the cold through dedication, and all he could see was the street across the river.

"Hawg one, continue."

And not even a second later, his ears lit up with sound.

"Hawg one, in from the north."

And he spoke the last words.

"Hawg one, you are cleared hot."

A second ticked by. Another second crawled over his skin, and another crept through his hair.

A brilliant, deafening light, two, three, four.

The upper floors of the building erupted and split apart with fire, hunks of concrete, metal, brick and glass flying onto the street, the snow, searing through tree leaves and smashing into car roofs, plunging into the river and across the whole city.

A tremor rocked the earth, and shockwaves rippled through the water.

When the smoke billowed high into the air, mixing with the snow, the place where the cafe was supposed to be was blanketed in a massage of death.

A long, hard rain fell down from above, and came with it was the roar of the A-10, and the sweet sound of revenge.

 _BRRRRRT!_

And in an instant it was over. The whisk of an airplane swept through the smoke like a flash of thunder. There one second, gone the next.

The snow drifted down, and it was black.

Pinpoint couldn't see a thing. Huge dust clouds pillared into the sky, seeping through the entire cityscape.

He assumed the best.

"Hawg one, target destroyed. No further tasking available, good job! You may depart."

Letting the adrenaline and pressure off his shoulders, he laid there for a while longer, after everything was said and done. Not to confirm the kills, but because his body felt like a lazy slab of jello.

Almost fifteen minutes would pass before he would get up and leave on foot, pack up and go back, back to his base miles away.

He should've known to never assume the best.


	15. Duress

It was a silent ride to the roof of Planeptune's main radio building, and with each passing second the Heroine of Justice grew more and more impatient, tapping the floor faster and faster as if her repetitive motions could somehow speed up the trip.

If that announcer was up here at all, he must have a screw loose or something. Who waits ten whole minutes to get to the roof of some stupid building? Of course, she wasn't exactly certain he was up here, but she had a hunch he was. That's… less than ideal but without any other leads, what can you do?

The elevator stopped on the second-to-top floor, and Nisa was forced to trudge up the maintenance stairs to get to the roof. And even more unfortunately for her, the moment she pushed open the doors to the roof she felt a rush of cool night air whisp right through her unzipped black bodysuit and across her… immature breasts.

Feeling this, she quickly zipped up her outfit before any more attention was brought to her. She stepped further out into the open Planeptune sky, her face burning red in a flustered combination of anger and confusion. Even nature was against her now? It sure felt that way sometimes.

But at least Gamindustri was still on her side. Purple Heart, Blanc, Noire and Vert. They held up what fragile society there was, and it was her duty as a proud citizen to uphold Gamindustri's morals and order. Without the Goddesses, the people of Gamindustri would be no better than the people of Earth, and she'll be damned before she has to live in a society similar to the deprived, sad and degenerate society of those savages.

After all, if no one else could uphold Gamindustri's just values, who will?

Certainly not her target, that announcer fellow who's one sick and decadent goal is to strangle her very way of life, one lie after another.

It was almost as if she had to fulfil these orders as a sort of destiny. She was the one and only Heroine of Gamindustri… it only made sense that she would be the one to fight for what was right in her world's time of need.

So when she stepped out onto that roof, after she brushed aside all the personal issues plaguing her, she analyzed her surroundings with a critical eye.

The lights of Planeptune's nightlife twinkled as brightly as it should always be. Each unique skyscraper displayed a plethora of lights from each and every window, radiating life. The stairs exited near one of the edges of the building, and when Nisa looked down she saw dozens upon dozens of cars glowing like neon lights as they inched along each city street.

Nisa looked back up, and around the roof.

It was completely flat, and off to her right was a tall radio antenna. It's tip stretched out for what seemed like miles up above her head and into the untrodden stars. The red blinking light at the top almost fit with the dozens of other suns, if you could discount the fact that it was both red and blinking.

At it's base, if she were to look around the corner of the doorway, she saw an even taller skyscraper towering above her head. It looked pretty close, and if you squinted carefully, you could make out finer details inside each window such as desks, computers and the interiors of people's rooms. Some people sat at computers at eye level, and others were washing dishes a level above her.

But what caught her eye was the person sitting on the ledge of the building, looking down and to his left. Far past the antenna and to his left was the Basilicom of Planeptune. She didn't notice it before, but now that she had seen it, it was a pretty clear view of the capitol building. But this wasn't the time to sightsee.

He wore a pair of jeans and a black hoodie- but the edgy image was shattered as soon as she saw the price tag stuck to it's hem. Did he notice it was there? Or did he just not care? Considering that he was a degenerate, it could be anything.

In his left hand he held a strange device. It looked somewhat like a phone, but was somewhat rounder and had a stick jutting out the top. Probably some sort of nefarious radio contraption.

The guy slid off the edge, letting both his legs fall onto the cold hard floor. With his free hand he pulled on a black beanie, protecting his ears from the cold. Nisa felt slightly jealous, but she shrugged it off almost as soon as the feeling surfaced.

He lifted his device up to his mouth and seemed calm, somewhat at peace. That would have to change, and now would be as good a time as any.

Seeking to catch him off guard, Nisa leapt into the air, her red scarf trailing behind her like a cape.

She landed on the ground some ten-odd feet in front of him, a grim expression involuntarily painted on her face.

With a rigid finger she thrust her arm up and pointed at his face.

"You time is up, villain!" She boldly proclaimed.

He wasn't buying it, and scrunched his face together in confusion. "What, me? A villain?" He pointed at himself. Was he _mocking_ her?

"What do you mean, 'Me? A villain'?" She gasped, nostrils flaring with spite.

"Of course I'm talking about you." She proclaimed. "I have come to deliver justice!" She held up her fists defensively, not daring to take her eyes off her foe. "Tonight, your reign of terror is coming to an end!"

"Alright, okay, hold up," Nathan muttered with a smirk, using the wall to help him to his feet. Why wasn't he taking her seriously? This was insulting. He threw his arms out as if he were shrugging. "What I'm doing isn't wrong in the slightest, c'mon!" He lowered his arms, and grimaced. "You can't just call me evil and all…"

Nisa frowned. "This _Radio Free America_ of yours is far too harmful to stay on the air." She huffed, not liking the amount of inaction going down. "It's illegal and just plain lies! You broadcasted for much too long, announcer. Just give it up and come quietly!"

He said nothing in response to her generous offer. He even had the audacity to smile!

"I speak nothing but the truth here, lady."

That was her breaking out. "You don't fool me for a second!" She snapped, glaring him in the eyes. "And it's Nisa, the Heroine of Justice to you, villain! Just come quietly and you won't have to get hurt."

"Justice?" The announcer paused. He was definitely teasing her now, and there's only so much talking she can take before action is needed. "Do you even know what justice you're fighting for?"

What kind of question was that? Of course she did.

"Uh- Duh! Of course I do! The law of the land, the freedom of the people-"

"Freedom? When I look around myself I see nothing but tyranny." He lowered his eyebrows at her, the first show of hostility she felt so far. "Tyranny of your Goddesses."

First he was as bold as to say she was wrong, but now he's saying that her great leaders were tyrants? Nisa came to deliver justice, but all she could feel now is the desire for revenge.

"How dare you say such a thing!" She leveled her fists, angered and ready to pounce. "I'll have you know that my friends- no- our CPUs are nothing but just! Your unjust accusations need to end, now!"

Seeing her tense up, the announcer raised his palms, showing he had no intention of fighting.

"It's not hard to tell that your justice is corrupt, Nisa!" He blurted, calling out to her over a gust of wind. "You don't know the whole story!"

"Stop!" Nisa shut her eyes, unwilling to hear it any more. "Just stop!" She shook her head. "You're just… so in the wrong here, announcer!"

Nisa stepped forwards, knees ready to spring forwards.

"If you've been listening to my broadcast," He interjected, right before she could strike. "You've known that your people don't keep prisoners!"

"Y- you just insult my people with your w-worthless lies, I know the truth!" She glared at him, throwing her arms around to display her displeasure. "I know what true justice is!" She pointed at herself with vivacious eyes. "If Planeptune has to go to war, I know that it's for nothing but good!"

He took a breath, trying her patience.

"And that's just it."

 _What's just what? You're just stupid and just spouting shit from your mouth?_

"Your casus belli is anything but that."

Her eyelids twitched.

No more.

"S- stop!" She shouted. "I'll…" She growled. "I'll end you, right here, right now!"

"You're fighting for justice, Nisa." He said, backing up and bumping into the wall. "There's no shame in that."

"Of course there's no shame! It's what's right!" Oh, how she _yearned_ to beat him to pieces.

"There's no need to fight. Really, I don't want to fight."

The Heroine furrowed her eyebrows, not an ounce of her fighting spirit easing.

"Is it okay to beat down a criminal who doesn't want to fight?" He asked. "I see that fire in your eyes. I've seen it before."

Was it okay? Probably not.

No, it's not right.

But she still had to bring him to justice, it's his fault for forcing her hand. Yeah, it's all his fault.

"It's not right, and you know it too." He continued, tucking his thumbs into his pockets. He spoke so leisurely, as though he weren't in any danger whatsoever.

"No." She replied, shaking her head. "You said you're not giving up. The only alternative is force."

"You could just come over and detain me, instead of beating me up. That beat-down would be pretty nasty for me."

And before she could respond, he kept speaking. "My name's Nathan, if you were wondering. But you can call me Nate if you'd like."

Nisa scowled.

"Alright mister, stop talking in riddles and just surrender already!" Nisa sighed bitterly, no longer enthusiastic.

"I already said that I won't."

She snarled, infuriated. "Then why don't you just… AGH!"

"Nisa, both of us are fighting for justice, it's just that yours is for your world, and mine is for my own. Do you understand? Please understand!" He called out, and Nisa took a deep breath.

Nisa had enough of this useless small talk. He was resisting arrest, and she was more than happy to bring him down along with that justice he claimed to uphold.

With her legs already primed, Nisa leaped forwards, arms extended and ready to tackle him down.

Seeing Nisa escalate so quickly alarmed the boy, who, out of panic, ducked down and tried to cover his head.

It didn't work, and Nisa's hands met Nathan's shoulders the the force of a speeding train. With a painful cry, Nathan collapsed backwards and onto the cold, hard concrete.

Why didn't he dodge? Was he _that_ bad at fighting? There's no way he just let her tackle him, no good Gamindustrian would just let themselves be tackled that easily.

"Stop resisting!" She demanded, fighting tooth and nail to hold down his arms which flailed in the narrow distance between each other, right up until his right arm reached down to his thigh.

Two brisk, sharp gunshots broke Nisa's eardrums as something that felt like a sword jabbed her in the belly with incredible speed. Twice.

"What?" She spat, loosening her grip on her foe with widened eyes. Of course he would have a weapon, what the hell was wrong with her? She was too rash, too angry to properly analyze the situation.

As she was disoriented, Nathan kneed her in the pelvis with a grunt, causing further pain for the Heroine of Justice.

Not willing to be bested by her enemy, Nisa brought back a fist to slug the downed boy, but only to find herself getting jabbed in the side when she exposed herself.

"Ah-AH!" Nisa recoiled from both pain and her body's reflex, pulling herself up and away with a short stumble.

Still battered and beaten to the ground, Nathan drew his firearm onto his assailant, kicking himself across the ground and back against the wall.

Seeing the gun turned on her, Nisa snapped her foot out in a lightning-fast kick and slapped the weapon out of his hands. The pistol flew through the air and slid across the ground.

Nathan pulled his hands back and clutched them, wincing from the pain of the kick.

"You're under arrest for terrorism and resisting arrest." Nisa panted, rubbing the spot on her belly where she was shot. Did she get a bruise?

"What?" Nathan groaned, his back aching from being pushed down. "Do you… uh… do you have a warrant?"

Nisa's eye twitched. "F-fuck you! What does a warrant have to do with you committing crimes against society?" Nisa stood up straight. "I have a direct order from the CPU of Planeptune. That means shut your mouth, criminal scum!"

"Gee, what harsh words…" Nathan muttered as the vigilante pulled him up to his feet.

As the boy soldier was getting handcuffed, the shadows behind Nisa stirred. A steady stream of footsteps accompanied the noise, and the girl tensed up at the sound.

Nathan peered over her shoulder to get a look at the newcomer, more curious than afraid.

"Nisa," A young woman called out. "Please release him."

"What?" She stammered, jolting her body around. "Who's there? Show yourself!"

"Can't you see me?" The woman asked as if the answer were obvious. "I'm standing rather close."

"No…" Nisa raised an eyebrow. "Just… step out of the shadows there. It could be the lighting blinding me or something."

"Ah, it's probably the light. I'm terribly sorry for startling you, Nisa. I honestly had no idea you couldn't see me." The woman stepped out of the darkness and into the light of the city. They both knew who she was.

"Vert?" Nathan's eyebrows shot up in alarm. "Hey, hey, what- what?" He stammered out of confusion. What was she doing up here? Did she hate him for getting arrested? _Oh man_ , He thought, squeezing his eyes shut. _She shouldn't be up here, she shouldn't be seeing me like this!_

"Nisa, please let him go. I will handle this case from here, good work." Vert nodded, gesturing for her to leave.

"Green Heart! I- I worked real hard to reign this guy in. I got orders from Purple Heart to take him directly to her!" The Heroine stammered.

"Don't worry, your work is over. You are dismissed, I will take this from here." Vert leveled her eyebrows at the girl.

"But-"

"You will be rewarded, Nisa. I'll be sure to pass Neptune a good word for you."

Nisa stood beside her captive, mouth agape. She had so many things to say, so many feelings and gestures to point out. She wanted to turn him in personally. She wanted to bring this criminal to justice by herself.

She really didn't know what to do now that Green Heart was giving her an order in person. As a citizen of Gamindustri, it was her duty to uphold order and follow the laws laid down the the Goddesses. But what if one order contradicted another, like this one? Was this a test from Purple Heart to test her loyalty?

"I- alright." Nisa complied, stepping away from a bewildered Nathan. "Here's the key to the cuffs."

The vigilante tossed the tiny metal key over to Vert, who caught it without any trouble.

"Thank you." Vert thanked while making stern eye contact with her.

Nisa nodded, stepping away from the captive. A million things were running through her head, but they were lost in the wind of nighttime Planeptune, it's familiar and homey nightlife never fading. And to Nisa, she felt as though her actions tonight helped keep it the way it was. Slowly but surely, the heroine disappeared into the darkness and down the steps, out of sight and out of mind. After hours of walking and thinking over the whole ordeal many, many times, she was satisfied.

Nathan was still confused, staring at his supposed friend with a confused yet critical eye.

 _Did Nisa call her… Green Heart?_

 _Was… was she a CPU this whole time?_

Nathan did not want to think like that. But it couldn't be true. That wasn't possible. No. No. This whole time, this _whole time_ , was everything done for him just some facade to lure him into trusting her? Was this whole time just him being monitored? Did she… no… did those Goddesses know everything he was doing this whole time? **Did she, did they, did she…**

"Nate. Calm down, please." Vert frowned, stepping closer. "I can see you breathing all weird… are you alright?"

"Alright?" Nathan wanted to smile, but only let out a grim half-smirk. "I'd love to be alright, but here I am, handcuffed, beaten up and cornered by what might just be one of the four leaders of this world. Plus whatever that might imply, because I don't think I need words to speak right now. You're smart. You get me?"

Vert sighed, brushing aside a length of her blonde hair that had fallen before her eyes in the chilling wind.

"Listen to me, Nate." Vert looked him in the eyes. "I'm not your enemy." She paused, letting the boy digest the statement. "What I'm doing tonight will turn the others against me. Well… what I've already done will do so as well. It's… it's a matter of time."

Nathan raised his eyebrows up and down, as if to tell her to continue.

Vert smiled at that, however briefly. "For a long time now, I've been communicating with the leaders of Earth and assisting them in repelling the invaders. From the start, I was never on board with the idea of invading an inhabited world."

Nathan felt funny. Conflicted. Betrayed, but at the same time, satisfied to know the truth. She was a CPU, there was no avoiding that. He wanted to believe her when she said she was on his side. He really, really did. The urge to believe was overwhelming. She couldn't be an enemy, not after everything they've done together. There had to be more to the story, and he wanted to hear it. He _needed_ to hear it. He saw the genuineness he wanted to see in her face, and then he believed her, for better or for worse.

"Okay." Nathan nodded. "I'll go along with your story. But what's the point? I can tell you're leading up to something."

"It was Neptune, Nate. And at the same time, it's not her."

 _What?_

"No, that was poorly worded." Vert shook her head. "It's… it's that in the past, Neptune would never decide to go HDD like she did, doing all the things that she had done. Some of which are… completely strange for her. Revitalize the military? Institute a matriarchy? She gained a lot of power over time. So much that it got the rest of the CPUs scared, myself included. When the call to war came, well, you're smart."

 _Duress,_ Nathan knew.

Vert took a breath, fiddling with the key in her hands.

"There's no way Neptune could do everything that she did by herself. What I'm trying to get at here is that there has to be something else at work here. I've been on this theory for almost a whole year, and I've come up with only one thing to show for all that time."

The tip of Nathan's nose froze in the wind, which swept up the ends of Vert's dress and froze the boy soldier's metal handcuffs. He didn't feel terrible around Vert, even though she was a Goddess. That thought, however, felt weird to him. He knew that he should hate the CPUs for what they've done to his world, but he couldn't help but think of her as a person, not for what she was beyond that. Not to mention the pressure from whatever force that Vert's been drawing towards, maybe those CPUs aren't so bad after all. But then again, there has to be some fault put on them. But Nathan didn't have all the facts, so he shouldn't jump to conclusions.

"I think something happened to Histoire, Planeptune's oracle."

"Okay." Nathan lightly nodded. "So since you're apparently on my side, what can we do about it?"

"That's the thing." The Goddess of Leanbox pressed her lips together. "There's nothing we can do- right now. Our position is much too precarious. As things happen, we can act accordingly."

The announcer sighed in agreement. "So, for right now, can you uncuff me?"

The tips of Vert's fingers squeezed the handcuff key. "I will." The Goddess looked at the boy's face. He looked down at the key. "But I must tell you something. It's important."

"Yeah," Nathan smiled weakly from being weary and cold. "Go shoot, I'm not going anywhere."

Vert's heart was beating faster and faster, but she couldn't tell why. She wasn't in trouble, neither was he. There wasn't anything to be anxious of, there wasn't anything logical about it. Was he noticing? Vert hoped not, but at the same time, had no idea why.

"I can't have you be doing this radio thing anymore. It's-" Vert paused, her trail of thought scrambled, but only for half a second. "It's for your own good. It's only a matter of time before you get hurt or captured. I can't be here all the time, you know." She smiled, and Nathan blushed. _Cute_.

"Yeah, about that… thanks for helping me out."

"That's not all." Vert continued, speaking a little softer. "You really can't stay in Planeptune any longer. She's onto you- Purple Heart, I mean."

"That sucks." The boy's mind was drawing back the memories of Nisa and how easily she took him down. "But you have a point. So… what's a solution?"

"You could come with me to Leanbox," Vert suggested almost immediately. "Or you could find a way to Lastation or Lowee. There are risks and benefits with each, obviously." Vert blushed, rubbing the back of her neck. "But I'm sure you can think of something."

 _I'd love to go to Leanbox with you._ Nathan thought. _Even if you're who you are._

"Sure I'll think of something, but don't you think that some more solid information could help? Like exactly where I could go in Lastation or Lowee?"

 _Don't think about those places, please come to Leanbox with me. I don't want to see you hurt again._ Vert thought.

"You know, I'm almost certain that Uni is in Lastation."

Nathan raised an eyebrow, confused.

"Oh, Uni is Noire's sister. She abandoned the other CPUs, and I have reason to believe she is on our side. The problem will be finding her."

"That could be an issue." Nathan affirmed with a grim expression.

It was at this point that the boy realized that his head was not where it should have been. They were talking about something very serious right now, something that could affect the life and death situation that everyone in his world has been put into. He had a choice to put all the tragedy and suffering to an end, but he was paying attention to, of all things, her voice.

And this was also the point where he realized how close they had gotten.

The sounds of the restless city filled his ears. The cars whisked down below, the wind rushing by his ears. He saw the lights of the skyscrapers, of the windows of the people and the cars and the sea of lights twinkling high, high above his tiny, insignificant head.

He felt her warm breath on his neck. That would be weird in just about every single situation, but right here, right now, it felt okay. It didn't feel right, not since she was a CPU, but it still felt okay. It felt alright. This was odd. Everything was odd. What was this?

She was a CPU. She was right there. Vert was right there.

It hurt his head.

"Hey, do you think you could get me out of these cuffs now? It's starting to hurt my wrists." Nathan broke the silence, hoping to ruin whatever mood was developing right now. He was no idiot. She was no idiot.

"Oh!" Vert stammered, taking a step back. "With pleasure."

Vert held the key in her right hand, and when Nathan turned his back to her, she twisted the key in the lock and then he was free. For a moment, just a moment, Vert felt something pull at her chest. Not her heart, but somewhere in her gut. A tug that told her to stay.

"Vert, I'll get to Lastation. I'm going to follow your advice." Nathan stated, dropping the handcuffs onto the ground. They made a dull clattering sound as they landed.

"Mm." Vert nodded. She felt the pulling again. "Mhm! If you need to contact me, for whatever reason, call Leanbox Basilicom's questions and feedback number, and tell the automated operator your name. I'll have Chika program it to route your call to me."

"That's good." Nathan sighed, then yawned with his arms stretching out wide.

Vert yawned as well, then spoke gingerly. "You must be getting tired."

"And you."

"Have you got a place to go?" Vert asked with concern laced through her lips. "If-"

"I got a place, yeah." Nathan looked down, then towards his M9 Beretta. It lied in a spot of light to his right, and he could see the American flag illuminated as clear as day on it's grip. The sight came with a deep breath of conviction. "I can get there on my own. Tomorrow I'm going to be heading out."

The Goddess of Leanbox opened her mouth to speak, but Nathan didn't care. He continued talking. "I'll call the Basilicom if I need help or advice. Thanks again for rescuing me."

"Of course…" Vert murmured as the boy stepped aside to pick up his gun.

Nathan departed quickly after that with a brisk farewell, not spending a second longer than he had to on that roof. Vert transformed into her HDD form, which had caused Nathan to flinch, before departing on her own. Lieutenant Kiowa took the elevator down once he collected the drone, and left through a back door of the building, into an alley.

As he trudged through the dark streets of Planeptune's industrial zone, Nathan thought back at what he had done and how she had seen him. And he hated himself for doing the one thing that he hated when other people did it to him.

Distancing.

* * *

"Stocker, Stocker,"

A headache. Throbbing, hurting, killing. A migraine.

"Hey, you're waking up. Take it slow, take it easy. Keep your head on the pillow."

What was happening? He couldn't open his eyes, and when he tried, all he saw was a blur. A grey ceiling, blobs of color here and there. He was inside, but where?

Stocker couldn't feel anything except his head, which hurt like a bitch. He couldn't think without it hurting. Was this surgery? No, it couldn't be. Did he die? Probably not, he still had some sort of senses.

"He's going to make it. He's going to make it, right?" A male voice to his right cried, each vowel dripping with anxiety.

"I don't know. I'm not a doctor. I just read the labels. If I had to guess, after all the blood he's lost and the damage he's taken, I doubt he'll be the same guy as you knew him before. And that's if he makes it." To his left, a young female.

 _Oh god, am I going to die here?_

"Listen, Garland. We're going to run out of drugs and healing items really soon, if you hadn't noticed. It'd be great if you could try and get some more."

"Yeah. Anything. But where from? This goddamned ruined school doesn't seem to have much of anything left in it." He was getting agitated.

"Just… let me think…" She paused. "Okay, I'm certain there's a bunker further to the north of us that has gear, medicine and food. I can show you on a map."

"What? Why would that even be there? How do you know this?"

"Lastation's government has plenty of emergency shelters across the country in the event of a disaster and such. I know this… because I used to work for the military."

"Okay… but you don't expect me to go alone."

"What, you want me to go with you?" She scoffed. "Yeah, I can. But it's up to you if you want _him_ to take care of your vegetable friend here."

The man sighed, thinking. "Damn. I hope I never see the day that that teen has to watch over my friend. But then again, Stocker's life is at risk."

After a brief pause, he continued with an answer. "Screw it. I'll need your help with this, if you'd be as kind as to help me. But what's the deal with the mood?"

"Let's just go now, while it's still dark out." The girl said, not touching upon the second question.

The duo left the room, discussing the future and the impending operation. The light switched off, and the lone door closed. Everything was black.

With nothing better to do, Stocker thought about nothing. His head hurt. He helt his body for a second, and it hurt a lot.

Stocker closed his eyes, letting his pain rock him to sleep.

.

.

.

 _ **You don't have to feel this pain any longer.**_ A voice echoed through his head.

 _Who are you?_ Stocker thought to himself. He doesn't want to admit it to himself, but deep down he knew he would be crying from the pain if he could feel his whole face.

 _ **I'm a friend. And you need my help.**_ It spoke to him.

 _I'd love help._ He spoke back in his mind.

 _ **If you want the pain to stop now, I have two options for you.**_

 _Tell me, please._

There was a short wait before the next message came to his head.

 _ **Die, wish yourself to die and I will fulfil your last request. Or choose to live, and I will take away your suffering and replace it with purpose.**_

This was so… strange.

 _I refuse to die._ Stocker thought. _But I already have a purpose._

There wasn't a pause this time.

 _ **Wrong choice.**_


	16. 10 O'clock Train

"Lady Purple Heart, there's no broadcast on air right now." An assistant spoke crisp and clear, standing in the doorway of a meeting room in Planeptune's military central command.

"I see. Has our guild agent reported back to us yet?" Purple Heart responded with a question, her voice equally as serious as the last. Sitting at one of many occupied seats around an oval table, all ears were tuned in expectantly.

"Yes. She notes that Lady Green Heart had intercepted her before turning in the announcer, at approximately 2140." A pause, and the assistant took in a shaky breath. Nerves were grinding all throughout the room. "We have not received word of Leanbox's actions as of 2239. That was two minutes ago."

The CPU of Planeptune curled up her lips, displeased to the highest degree.

"We should assume the worst." She set her piercing gaze upon her aides.

"I want all security measures to be enacted. Phone tapping, security footage on the border, consider martial law to be in effect but release nothing. I need the national guard on high alert and the navy on EMCON zero. Scramble interceptors around the border, especially between us and Leanbox, I want every commercial flight departing from Planeptune at least an hour ago to be marked for scrutiny."

Purple Heart set her gaze on the assistant in the doorway.

"This embarrassment must not be allowed to leave this country, for the sake of our national dignity and our pride."

* * *

"... And I'm floating in the most peculiar way…"

A passenger train felt like the most effective transportation method available to Nathan Kiowa. Sitting in the window seat, the boy felt comfortable and safe for the first time since he had first arrived in Gamindustri, back with Arfoire and Warechu. It seemed like those days were so long ago, yet for some reason the memories were still fresh and vivid in Nathan's mind.

A sole woman was sitting to his right, lodged between him and the center aisle. Above him was a small cargo hold for carry-on bags and items, and that's where his backpack was. He was surprised that he was able to get through international customs without so much as a passport, especially when there was a rifle stuck in his bag. And a bigass drone folded and strapped to it's side.

"...Planet Earth is blue, and there's nothing I can do…"

The lyrics of _Space Oddity_ reverberated from his deceased subordinate's iPod, broadcasting to his ears a flurry of familiar sound that played for the first time ever in this dimension. His earbuds were unique as well, as he had noticed while window shopping the day before that most headphones or earbuds were wireless or vibrantly colored. But despite all these discrepancies, no one batted an eye at him. That felt weird.

As he listened, and as the train chugged peacefully on, he thought back to last night. Nathan winced at his own stupid behavior. He should've ran from Nisa, he should've done _anything_ but talk. Talking only led to his own downfall. The gun seemed effective, but not for too long. Close combat only ended in his failure, which was to be expected, but he still needed to find a way to make up for that weakness. Words won't help much when someone or something is out for blood.

But that was just the beginning of his self-loathing, nerve-wracking night. Vert, of all people, saved his ass. Now that was hella embarrassing.

And she was a CPU? For some stupid reason, that one aspect of her was lodged in the back of his mind since last night. For some reason, against all logical reasoning, that was all he could see about her. She said she was on his side, and yeah, he believed her, but he couldn't help but be skeptical when it was just redundant thinking.

Vert was not his enemy. He had to trust himself to believe that- which was easy considering all the time they had already spent together, but it still felt weird. Who wouldn't feel weird when finding out that one of their friends was secretly a president or a celebrity?

But there were other feelings aside from just "weird". And as much as Nathan didn't want to admit it, he knew that he kinda liked her. More than just a friend. It was about the way she laughed like she meant it, the way she moved so elegantly as if there was an aura of royalty about her… he should've guessed that she was a Goddess. It clicked. But there was probably more about her that he didn't know yet. For instance, what was her favorite color? Did she have any interesting hobbies? Like rock climbing- nah, she didn't have the figure. Professional ice skating? Perhaps. Maybe she really liked obsessing over fictional characters and holing up in a dark room and gouging herself on junk food. That probably wasn't the case either, but anything could be a possibility.

After almost half an hour of dumb fantasizing and thinking up romantic, stupid and even the most dubious scenarios that would never occur in a thousand years, the boy sighed. He really wanted to sleep, but he couldn't keep himself from thinking about what he did yesterday and how he could've changed how everything turned out.

Since it was both nearing midnight and a long train ride, the lights of the corridor were dimmed, and its inhabitants were either plugged into a device or sleeping. Aside from Nathan himself, the sole exception to that rule was the person to his right. She was glued to a notepad, scribbling something, pausing, then erasing it as though there could be something else written that would satisfy her and whatever critics would take a jab at her.

She fumbled with her pen, clicking it against her chin with furrowed eyebrows. He could tell that something wasn't turning out the way she wanted.

With a pouty sigh, she looked up and out of whatever world she found herself to be in. As the most obvious thing in her immediate area, she latched her eyes onto the boy to her left.

"It's not as easy as you'd think," She started with a hushed voice. "Getting a good article started."

Nathan smiled, realizing he'd been caught staring, and pulled out an earbud.

"Ah, I'd assume so." He nodded, slightly embarrassed. "You're heading out to Lastation as well?"

"I mean, where else would I be going? There's no real points of interest along this route, aside from the mountains. Do I look like the outdoorsy type to you?"

"No," Nathan replied quickly. "Not really. Honestly I'd have to say you appear to be more of an… entertainer than anything."

It was true, at least in his eyes. She wore a white and red top with two streaks of red buttons running down the middle. It exposed her belly button, a common theme among Gamindustrians. Connecting her top to her blue skirt was a pair of blue straps that looked, at least to him, like overalls. But she wasn't wearing overalls. It was confusing to him, as he'd never seen anything like it before. It was a cosmetic, and speaking of cosmetics, her outfit was completed by a red ribbon on her waist and a pair of white, clownlike gloves.

"An entertainer, huh? I've never gotten that one before. You look like… the outdoorsy type. What's up with the price tag?" She pointed her pen at the offender on his waist.

"What?" He shot his eyes down to the bright white price tag on the hem of his back hoodie. "Aw, crap!" He quickly shot a hand over and tore off the tag. "I just bought this the other day. I guess I should pay more attention to my appearance."

Nathan unzipped the jacket and pulled it off his shoulders, letting it furl into a ball on his lap. That revealed a bright white T-shirt and his arms. His wrists still held a bruise-eque mark from yesterday's encounter with the handcuffs, and in an attempt to hide it, Nathan tucked his wrists under the hoodie.

"Yeah, the more of a personality you are, the more you need to pay attention to how you look." She brought her bold green eyes up to meet his own. "I'm Famitsu. Have you heard of me?"

Nathan shook his head. "Can't say I have, Famitsu." He paused. "I'm Nathan, but people call me Nate. I take it you're some celebrity of some sort?"

"Just about." She nodded, giddy to introduce herself. "I'm a Game Reporter! C'mon, don't you play games? And don't say no because I can tell that's a lie."

"Well… I do enjoy video games ever so often-" He started, rubbing the back of his head.

"Ever so often?" She half-scoffed, almost rolling her eyes. "Even if you were a causal player you would know me. My quotes are on the front cover of each and every title in Gamindustri! Well, at least most of them. But still, I have a profound influence in gaming and beyond. For instance, I write articles detailing big news around each nation's capital and the ongoing war. I'm among the first to gain access to critical information."

"That's good…" He murmured. If she's up to date on current events, she might know about him! Maybe not a name, but there's gotta be at least a physical description on him out there by now. He needed to get the conversation away from him. "What are you writing right now?"

"Oh," She sighed, glancing back at her notepad with a sudden disheartened expression. "It's… just that I'm having trouble finding something to write about. It's happened before, but for some reason I just can't really start off right." She continued, not pausing for anything. "Like, I have a few topics to cover that I got in Planeptune, but I just can't start on any of them. I have the information," She clarified. "It's just that I'm not sure of which one to write about or how to start each one."

She finally took a breath, her enthusiasm dimming just enough to let Nathan speak.

"I used to be part of my school's journalism group. You think that I could help? It's not like I've got anything better to do tonight."

"Eh," She hesitated, reclining in her seat. "I guess so. But you don't tell anyone about my news until it goes out. Deal?"

Nathan stifled a laugh. "Yeah, deal." He leaned in, taking a good look at her notepad.

Famitsu circled the three topics available. "I've got good enough information on the opening of a indie game studio, an interview with a firefighter about the state of Planeptune's emergency services, and finally I talked with some people in the Basilicom about this terrorist ruining radio shows for everyone. What are your thoughts?"

Nathan scrunched his face up, thinking at the obvious choice.

"You alright in there?" Famitsu asked, smiling at his curiously strange expression.

"I'm fine, it's just," He paused, smirking like he had a sour lemon lodged in his mouth.

"Eh, it's okay." Famitsu laughed, tucking her notepad away in a pouch. "Take your time. I sorta want a break from work for a bit, anyways."

"Yeah, I got nothing for you. But, if anything, that indie game studio sounds interesting."

Famitsu thought for a second. "Maybe you're right. But I still want a break," She sighed. "I've been on my toes all day long."

Nathan took a deep breath, fiddling with his freed earbud in one hand. He felt like he should've said something more, but at the same time he knew that he probably would screw up and say something he shouldn't. At least in this situation he wasn't getting his fragile cover chewed into chunks and spat out.

There was silence for a while, and Nathan thought it would be appropriate to plug his earbuds back in. The song had changed long ago, this time it was a country song, _Sweet Home Alabama_. He felt a bit homesick, despite not being from Alabama. He had never been to Alabama, either. But it still gave him this serious tugging, a sore churning, right in his chest, right by his belly button. He guessed it was just the familiar music getting to him.

Nathan looked out the window and saw nothing but darkness. Trees sped by. He knew each one was unique but they all were meshing together due to the speed. Trees. His eyelids grew heavy, breathing synonymous to the beat of the song.

"Hey, whatcha listening to?" Famitsu interrupted his rest like the sudden crashing of waves against a moonlit shoreline. He could tell he was almost asleep, too.

Famitsu suddenly widened her eyes in a sort of embarrassment. "Oh, sorry for waking you!"

"No no, I was awake the whole time. Just resting." He pulled out an earbud. "I…"

 _Oh shit!_

What could he tell her without exposing his identity? Nathan didn't actually know any native Gamindustrian songs...

"If you don't want to tell me that's okay." That was a relief. "Just wondering." She turned away, but just for a moment. Another question must've come to her head, because Famitsu jolted right back to face Nathan. "Hey, I'm really curious. Like, since you haven't heard of me, you had to be playing games that I don't review or something."

"Yeah," Nathan started, scrambling for a believable answer. "I come from this remote community up in Lowee. We have a lot of different stuff there, and games are among those things. Like, we have, uh, Counter Dyke. It's an, uh, game about running these, uh, tycoons and building dams. There's a second faction that is supposed to destroy the dams, which is how the game gets it's name."

"That's an… interesting game to say the least." Famitsu concluded. "But that's it? I'd expect remote communities to have some games from the outside world. That sounds like a multiplayer game, too. You must have access to the internep and other gaming platforms. Do you play MMOs?"

Nathan chuckled nervously. "Not really a fan of MMOs. But there are other games out there, yeah."

"Counter Dyke seems like a very abstract game that I would've heard of. Like, someone must've reviewed that one. One second," Famitsu stood up and out of her chair, pulling out a smartphone. "I want to give a colleague of mine a call! Dengekiko must know of that one, and I really want to get my hands on it."

Nathan's eyes widened with fear.

"I'll be right back." Famitsu said as she stepped down the aisle, towards the restroom to talk privately.

"Shit…" Nathan muttered under his breath. He didn't even play Counter Strike, and this is what he gets? What should he do?

Hmm. If things go his way, there's a good chance that that call wouldn't bear any fruit for Famitsu. He did say that it was from a remote village, after all. That excuse might just be his saving grace- but only if that Dengekiko person isn't as professional as he was thinking about.

From this moment on, his identity and future sat in the palm of Famitsu. There was nothing he could do.

* * *

" _Counter Dyke, huh?_ "

Game Reporter Dengekiko sat lazily on a couch in a Lastation hotel room. On her lap was her work laptop, with it's screen displaying search results for that particular title.

"You heard me." Famitsu smirked. "I'm just curious as to how such a unique title passed under my nose, even if it is as rare as that Nathan guy said it was."

She pressed her back against the wall of the train, her eyes halfheartedly scanning up and down the train aisle. The gentle churning of the train's wheels felt comforting for the reporter.

" _Funny, nothing's showing up._ " Dengekiko murmured, the typing of her keyboard audible through the call. " _I'll try again, this time in Lowee's game archives. It could just be an old game._ "

"That makes a lot of sense to me. That also says something about the guy, too. Isn't it so interesting how other people have such complex lives?"

" _That's to be expected. Each person has just as much of a person as you are._ " Dengekiko paused, concluding her search. " _And don't start saying you're some protagonist or something, will you?_ "

"Heh, don't sweat it. And Hey… isn't there a name for that feeling? I feel like I've heard this before. Some deja vu of some sort." Famitsu sighed as a woman passed her, stepping into the restroom.

" _I'll do a quick search as the archives are loading, but I doubt anything will come up._ " Famitsu waited patiently for her colleague to conclude the task.

" _Well, this is weird._ "

"What's weird? Was it something I said?"

" _Somewhat like that. You see, there is a word for that, but it's strange how you think you know of it._ "

"So what is it?" Famitsu interrogated, not letting the other speaker finish.

" _I was just getting to that. You see, it's an uncommonly used word in the English language on Earth. Sonder. The realization that every person in the whole world is living a life as livid as your own, and that they also know hundreds of other people. In their life, you might just appear as some minor person sipping coffee in a window, walking down the city street, and so on. Essentially, everyone has a story, and you're not the only one with one."_

There was a slight pause as the pair digested the information, each one of them coming to their own unique conclusion. The train churned on and on.

"That's… strangely deep. But it makes sense. Who knows, if this search doesn't come up with something, maybe there's just something more that we don't know." Famitsu concluded, eyeing the woman with a new conviction as she left the restroom and returned to her seat, eyes weary with a heavy emotion.

" _Well, you're just going to have to follow that philosophy of yours. There's no such thing as Counter Dyke._ " Dengekiko affirmed, peering at the screen in front of her.

"Guess so, Dengekiko." Famitsu sighed, rubbing the tips of her fingers together out of boredom.

" _I best head out now. It's getting late, and I'm not sure how much longer I can stay up._ "

"Same here. I'll see you around, then. Best of luck to your work!" Famitsu signed off, feeling a strange new surge of confidence.

" _Yeah,_ " Dengekiko yawned, reaffirming her statement. " _Have a good night._ "

They each lifted their respective devices from their ears, flipping or tapping each phone off. They each had a moment of thought, thinking of all the things that they didn't know. But there had to be a better time for that thought, at least in Famitsu's eyes, who decided to get some sleep in

once she returned to her seat.

* * *

A row of computers sat in a lower level of Planeptune's central command. Women and men sat at each monitor, their jobs getting much busier with the most recent order from their Goddess.

One man, sitting at a computer with a degree of laziness in his eyes, heard something of interest through his headphones. A name.

He listened closer now, this call between game reporters taking a sudden, more interesting turn.

It wouldn't be long before his patience was replaced with action, and action replaced with violence.

123456789012345678901234567890

"Noire."

Blanc and Noire, both in their HDD forms, stood atop the Empire State Building in New York City. The observation deck was completely devoid of life, as it was closed due to the ever-present possibility of an attack. It was several hours after lunch, and the afternoon sun touched the concrete jungle with it's golden glow emanating a strong resolve for the remaining inhabitants of what was once America's most populated city. Due to the evacuation order, the draft and action films concerning alien invasions, not many people chose to remain in what many commoners believed would be a bullseye for any attacker.

The streets were holding their breath.

The wind was waiting.

In Noire's eyes, hundreds of tall buildings across Manhattan and Brooklyn glittered like gems. They were dull in comparison to Gamindustri's own skyscrapers, but she had to admit that they held a unique charm to them. History, she thought was the answer. These buildings were much older than her own.

"Noire!"

Blanc's incandescent pestering finally caught the attention of the Goddess of Black Regality.

"Hey! Stop calling my name, lest you overuse it." Noire snarked, crossing her arms. The New York air smelled like that of an inner city, but from so high up neither of the Goddesses could notice it. A gentle breeze swept up the ends of Black Heart's white hair, and her expression was grim.

"Hmph. We've been waiting for almost half an hour now. How much longer are you going to hold me back?" White Heart's hammer sat on the ground, it's handle jutting up in front of it's wielder.

"It looks too calm. Just look." The CPU of Lastation frowned in discomfort. "I've never had second thoughts much like these before."

"You're just a damn wuss. I'm thinking that all this down time has been getting to you. Don't think about yourself or about the specifics too much. This isn't some fight against ASIC, yeah, but these guys are still rotten to the core. Thinking about themselves. You'd never find a selfless bone in a single one of their shitty corpses." Blanc brought her scowl over to her accomplice. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes." Noire nodded, drawing her sword. "I just feel like we shouldn't have so much collateral damage. We are better than them, right?"

"Duh?" White Heart replied as if it were obvious. "They kill without any sort of hesitation. You saw that missile. These animals are bred for war. They don't get feelings, not like we do at least."

"But does that justify our own actions? You said we were better than they were."

A sharp _tsk_ snapped from Blanc's mouth.

"It's us or them. You know this as well as I do. You give them an inch, they take a yard. That's one of their proverbs, actually, and I think it fits in this situation. You've seen what they're capable of, especially when backed into a corner."

Noire frowned, the New York sunlight reflecting across her obsidian-black weapon.

 _I just feel like this is… wrong._

"We've waited long enough. The time is now." White Heart announced, drawing a Gamindustrian communication device. Noire's eyes were glued to it, speaking volumes of protest in her own mind and not through her mouth. Was that a mistake?

"Company commanders, you have the green light to initiate barrage. All hard targets are viable for pinpoint strike." Blanc returned her device, turning to her companion.

"Let's get moving."

Noire gripped her blade tighter. There was no other choice, was there? Everything was already planned meticulously by herself and White Heart. No backing out now, especially not to dumb feelings. She had drawn her weapon, it would be a shame to have to sheathe it without a fight.

So silent before the storm.

And the horrific tremor of high explosive shook the earth, the radiant blaze of fire tucking the skyscrapers in a blanket of red. Seconds later she could hear the extinction of life. So fierce, the thunder of guns.


	17. Long Night

"Listen up, we only have one shot at this."

A woman wearing black stood in the passenger bay of a long hovercraft, the angry hum of the engines and the hungry red light of the interior keeping the soldiers awake as the night dragged on. Her right hand gripped a rope connected to both her waist and the ceiling of the hovercraft, and in her left hand was a special forces submachine gun.

Through her mask, she spoke loud and firm.

"In twenty minutes the target train is going to cross the border into Lastation, and we have not informed Lastation officials about our operation. We need to be in and out in five minutes, or else things are going to go very, very wrong."

Each of the soldiers hearts screamed with each pump. Having never gone on such a high stakes mission in the past, their inexperience shone brighter than the nauseating red light of the ship's interior. Faces looked left and right, sweat slipping from under goggles and fogging up in their eyes. The tapping of feet could be heard in a chorus, and the sharp, jagged breathing could be seen on each armored chest.

"Chalk two is going to deploy on the other end of the train as we take it from the rear. Goddess Purple Heart is double-timing her way here as we speak, if all else fails we are counting on her to derail the train before crossing the border. U- understood?"

Several soldiers nodded, others released heavy sighs of relief. Their inexperience was mostly due to the fact that every major disturbance was always dealt with by the CPUs of each nation, making little practical use for Planeptune's special forces. Except for taking up space and the occasional parade, of course.

" _I got a visual on the train, 700 meters and closing. ETA one minute. Standby for drop."_ The pilot of the craft spoke through the loudspeakers, sending a wave of anxiety through each of the occupants.

"Everyone up!" The leader shouted, bringing her weapon to her chest. If she wasn't wearing gloves it would be easy to spot her white knuckles.

The squad of rookies got to their feet, weapons in hand. As they were connected to the ceiling by a rope, they wanted to believe that they were ready.

The rear door croaked open, exposing everyone to the sharp wind of the fleeting forest and the glittering roof of the train. Trees snapped by like streaks of thunder as the ship eased to match the speed of the train.

" _Chalk one, rope is deployed."_

The light in the hovercraft switched to green, and soldier at the maw of the ship spun around, tucked the rope behind her waist and kicked off the lip of the bay doors.

The second soldier repeated the process, but the wind took her by surprise. Unable to adjust in time, her grip loosened and the rope spun out from her grasp.

"WHAAA-" She cried out, falling and crashing down onto the cold, hard metal. Without a stable grip, the wind instantly swept her off her side and shoved her off the train and into the forest at dangerously high speeds.

As the others continued to rappel, the team leader panicked and grasped her headset's speak button. Her wide pupils were hidden beneath her red-painted goggles.

"Chalk one has a casualty! W- we need CSAR just west of ACP uhh…" Her soldiers continued to depart the craft like robots, not breaking under the strain of a loss of a friend. "Shit! We just need search and rescue along the rail, damnit!"

The last pair of boots jumped off the ship, leaving the leader along onboard. Just like the others, she moved to the open bay doors with her rope in hand. With a deep breath, she too lept down. She landed safe.

" _Chalk one, boots down. Serial one, away._ " The pilot announced through the radio as the bay doors closed, the red light disappearing from the night sky.

Terrible engines roared with more and more power as they hoisted the rotating ship into the stars and into the mountains of the Lastation-Planeptune border.

" _Chalk two, boots down. Serial two, away._ " The second pilot, controlling team two's ship, departed as well, leaving only the thump of the train and the whiplash of the wind to accompany the special forces.

 _Time to kick it in gear,_ the leader of Chalk one thought.

* * *

Nathan's compartment of the train was wide awake by the time they heard the terrifying scream from above. The awful din of a crowd in horror took hold over the passengers as they ducked in their seats, whispering and shouting to one another.

"Are we getting boarded?" Famitsu shrieked, worried to her stomach that she might be targeted in either the crossfire or as an enemy. "This can't be real!"

"Ohohoho…" He chuckled nervously to himself, more out of instinct than any other feeling. "This is real." Nathan stood up and out of his seat, his body rigid. He shot his arms up to the cargo compartment, pulling down his bag. "Fuck…"

"Wait, what's going on? You know why they're here?" Famitsu looked up at Nathan with a more critical eye.

"I'll get to the point and I won't lie," He grumbled, plopping his bag down on his seat. He started rummaging through it, each hand outstretched for both his pistol and vest. "That guy messing with the radios? Yeah, that's me." He sighed, staring her in the eye. "And no, I'm not a terrorist."

Famitsu paused to absorb the new information, astonished.

"W- why are you telling me this? Are you going to… shoot me?" She stammered.

"No. Why the hell would I do that?" He retorted with a snort, pulling out both of the items he was looking for. People behind Nathan in the train widened their eyes at the startling sight. "I'm human."

"Human…" Famitsu muttered as the lights in the train shut down.

Swamped by darkness, Nathan swore again. The mess of confused and disoriented passengers exploded into further chaos, some people getting out of their chairs and fleeing for a safer area down the aisle.

The boy slipped on his heavy bulletproof vest, the weight from his bag cut nearly in half. Just as he did so, heavy iron footsteps started stomping across the roof. Nathan gulped down his fear and started breathing. Just breathing. Calm, cool, breathing.

The M9 Beretta's metallic luster reflected the flickering light of stars from outside the train. The weapon dangled in Nathan's hand, just inches in front of Famitsu's eyes. She could make a move, strike hard and fast to take down this monster… was he a monster? A monster doesn't talk about video games, a monster doesn't offer help. Right?

"Keep your head down." He ordered her, and she obeyed, bringing both her hands over her head protectively. "It's about to get loud."

Stepping into the aisle, Nathan stood exposed with his backpack slung behind his vest and a pistol in his right hand. In his other hand he held a fragmentation grenade.

"Everyone, stay down." He called out with all the air in his lungs, heart racing faster and faster. He didn't expect much of anyone to listen to him, but he didn't think it would matter or not. He had a plan, a rough one, a bad one prone to failure, but it was a plan. He needed a semblance of structure now more than ever.

He was hoping that his explosives would destabilize the train enough so that it would split in half with him in the front end. He had two grenades, most likely not enough to do the job on their own. But what else could he do? He had no time to think of a solution, and his heart was beating fast, faster, morale and logic shrinking.

The boy soldier stepped past rows of terrified people. Women, children, a man. Some were dark, like shadows. Others had skin, flesh and bone. The safety of both types of people were on the back of his mind as he walked, breathing, breathing, breathing, between train cars. There was a restroom and a door on either side of the car. He closed both doors quickly, but not nearly fast enough.

A crash of glass rocked the train, muffled by the roar of the tracks and the engine, but loud enough to merit a scream further down the train, towards the front. Another crash, this one much closer- the train car he was just in. And another and another and another, all in the car he was just in.

Streaks of light slashed through the dark train cars. Flashlights painted people, their tight and rigid movements up and down the aisle leading some people to scream. Others pushed themselves further down into their seat, desperately hoping for their CPU to come and save them.

Then a gunshot. Nathan winced, ducked down hard against a wall. He didn't get shot, and he blinked. Someone screamed, in agony. Maybe that person reached for a weapon, looked at a soldier funny, maybe even stood too quickly. Civilian casualties come with operations like this, he supposed. Adrenaline, tunnel vision, no- no- breathing.

Breathing.

Stay calm, he thought.

"He's over there!" A woman shouted in the car Nathan just left. "A gunman ran that way!"

Flashlights, lots of them. All looking for him, all pointed his way with a metal barrel to accompany it. They shone through the glass on the door, and it was bright.

This was his time, his time to act. His mission, his plan, Nathan thought, clutching the grenade. Standing with his back pressed against the wall beside the restroom, this was the best position to act from.

He brought the ball to his head, using two fingers to full the pin and his other hand to grasp firmly on the lever.

The grenade was primed and cooking. With precious little time to act, he rolled the explosive onto the ground and ducked into the restroom. He slammed the door shut behind him, hoping that the blast wouldn't kill him.

Seconds passed. He closed his eyes as heavy footsteps of the enemy drew near.

It detonated with a bellowing crack of fire, it's eruption taking his ears by surprise as they rang mercilessly. He held his hands up beside his head, but just for a moment. There was precious little time, and none of it could be spent on waiting.

Nathan reached for his last grenade with a sweaty hand.

Instinctively repeating the process from the last throw, the boy listened as more steps clawed their way closer to him. He cracked the door open and let out his bomb.

This one was a bad throw, as his wrist didn't have enough room to move as he wanted. The grenade fell short, rolling down the aisle and towards the boarding crew.

"Fuck- grenade!" A woman with a somewhat muffled voice yelled, only to be cut off by other muffled screams. They must've opened the door while he was in the restroom… a mistake they won't make again.

After this grenade's detonation, it seems like they all were clustered in the kill radius. Not a single sound could be heard from his right besides that of civilians.

Nathan breathed in again, closing his eyes. He opened them again, letting out a shudder and a shaky breath. Was their blood on his hands? How many more people would he have to kill today? He didn't mean to kill them, he told himself. It was a mistake, human error. Mistakes happen. Mistakes happen.

He knew he had to move, but he couldn't. What was waiting on the other side of this door? Charred walls? Body parts? Blood on the walls and scattered on the ceiling? … Himself? _Oh… fuck…_

He shuddered again, the gun in his hands loose.

Nathan pushed the door open and stepped outside, glancing to each side hard as if he were crossing a street. No one to his right. The door on his left was closed.

No flashlights. They were dead.

Nathan didn't look down as he stumbled out of the restroom, gasping.

No time to think, to mourn his and their common loss. Then gunshots. A burst of fire and the crash of glass. The door on his left shattered into pieces, bits of the window scattered through the air and onto the floor.

 _Return fire_ , he thought as he ducked and bolted out of the sight of his new and rapidly approaching enemy.

He had no more grenades left, and even if he did he wouldn't use them due to the risk of collateral damage. Even if he had taken the lives of many, he wasn't a killer. No. He wasn't a killer.

"Good fucking luck getting me!"

Nathan cried out through his gritted teeth. With a sudden and overwhelming sense of coup de grâce unlike anything he had ever felt before, he tightened his grip on his weapon and grazed the cool trigger with his index finger.

That callout was enough to rattle the already demoralized and partially broken soldiers to that same feeling of finality. This was it for someone, and it didn't matter who had the advantage. Someone was going to die, especially in this worst case scenario for the soldiers. A cornered hostile with the intent to kill, nothing left to lose and the possibility of a long, drawn out gunfight. Coupled with the realization that time was running out and that this was a disastrous operation even if they did manage to kill their target, they had broken.

"Fuck you!" A helmeted woman shouted at wits end as she raised her weapon, unloading her clip into the wall and through the door. The high-velocity, futuristic ammunition shattered the door and sent bullets into the wall opposite Nathan. The whizzing of death sent the boy soldier's adrenaline into overdrive.

He couldn't risk shooting, and they couldn't risk approaching him without the chance of more casualty. If only-

An atrocious sound rocked the train.

The clash of metal, then a roar.

The grinding of machines and the tipping of the entirety of the vehicle was not something that anyone could have accounted for in a million years. The train sank to the left as the front of the train was completely derailed. The behemoth shot into the woods at the speed of a speeding train, crushing trees, ruining dirt and uprooting hills, twisting and turning with flames erupting from sparks coming from the wheels. The world was alight.

The churning and grinding of refined metal joined the chorus of blood-curdling screams.

Purple Heart kept her word. That man was to die, even if it meant that people had to perish in the process.

* * *

"You hear that?" Private Garland stood in the shadows of trees, listening intently as his partner came to a halt as well.

The moonlight filtered through the nest of branches and leaves, which started to rustle as a gust of wind tore through them. It was quiet as they neared their objective, which was an underground bunker full of vital supplies.

"I think I do." Uni paused, heavy rifle in hand. She kneeled, gazing into the darkness in silence. "Yeah, I do."

"We should check it out." Garland stepped forwards, the barrel of his M16 leading the way.

"You're insane, right?" The girl retorted. "We're so close to the bunker. What's the deal with that sound, anyways? Be realistic, it'll just get in the way."

"I don't think so. There could be trouble, and besides, it sounds close." The man kept walking, maneuvering his feet through roots, rocks and branches as quietly as he could.

"You're stubborn." Uni frowned, filing in behind him.

"Ditto."

Uni rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, let's just hurry and get back. It's getting cold, and I did not dress for cold."

Garland smiled, but his companion couldn't see it in the darkness.

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

It looked like the apocalypse.

Sparks, twisted bits of train stretched like a snake through the trees, and the glow of flames lapped at the bark of trees and swallowing down innards of the utterly ruined vehicle.

The black sky was blocked out by the red, whose light painted leaves in their color and cast harrowing shadows throughout the forest. Groans of scattered men and women were lost in the storm of fire.

Nathan, who had not been buckled in when the overnight ride turned to shit, found himself eating dirt at the base of a tree. With mud on his cheeks, he barely managed to lift his face out of the dirt before losing the last of his strength.

He knew he had been thrown out of the train during a jolt in the ride, but he had no idea how much damage he had taken since he last opened his eyes. Were his bones broken? Had he bruised some organs? How much blood did he lose?

His whole body felt shattered, and he wondered if he would make it out of here in one piece. He wondered if anyone else made it out better off than him. Probably not, considering how ruined the train was.

The flames from the corpse of the vehicle danced in his pupils. Then he collapsed, his arms no longer able to hold himself upright. He was defeated, he had lost, but so many others did as well.

Above the trees, above the leaves painted with a waving red and orange, he saw a flash of purple. No, no, a single, solid light. It wasn't flashing, it wasn't going anywhere… no… it was coming towards him.

Nathan's eyelids drooped. He felt tired, he needed a break. No amount of coffee or sugar could wake him up, this is when he needed sleep. A long, long rest. He'd worked hard today.

He closed his eyes. _Just five more minutes, mom. Please, let me sleep, it's late and I'm not in the mood for any of this. Give me just five, five minutes._

He opened his eyes, and he saw a face staring into his own.

Bright bluish eyes. Too bold to be human. Purple hair, lots of it. This was Purple Heart, CPU of Planeptune. His enemy, right there, right in front of him.

She stood with one hand on her hip and the other wielding a giant alien sword. She smiled, the wreck of civilization behind her.

"What even are you?" She spoke, almost teasing. Why was she like this? Did she get some sick kicks from screwing with people? He was dead, Nathan thought. What was she waiting for?

Nathan blinked, then cast his own frail pupils on her own. His arms were stretched out in front of his body, his hoodie sleeves covered in mud. Loose in his right hand was his pistol, the little flag stained brown on it's grip.

"You're nothing." She kneeled, her twisted smile devolving into a smirk. "A dumb, lousy, pitiful excuse for a human. So what makes you Earth people so resilient? What makes you tick? There's no shares in you. There's no… magic, no spice, no energy."

The Goddess of Planeptune noticed Nathan's eyes drooping, and placed her fingers on his forehead, forcing him to look up at her.

"You're so... different." She murmured, taking a gentle, genuine interest in the boy's eyes. Her grip grew soft, then he saw her face change. She changed, the lines on her face, by her mouth, the corners of her eyes, the slight movement at her throat.

She showed remorse, panic, intense, intense regret.

But then her eyes, Nathan noticed, they flashed red. Just for a moment. Red, the color of blood.

"There's no room for dissidents in Gamindustri." She spat, pressing her wrist and fingers into Nathan's skull. "Not just one world, but all."

She stood up straight, raising her sword without a second thought. Like it were instinct. The fires flickered off it's gleaming blade as Nathan grit his teeth with the last ounce of his life.

There was a gunshot, a shot with the telltale crack of Gamindustri's high-velocity ammunition.

Purple Heart's Sword was knocked clean out of her hands, flipping through the air before planting itself into the dirt with a harsh yet satisfying thud.

"Back off, Neptune!"

A young girl with white curly twintails entered the fray, thrusting herself as a barrier between him and the CPU of Purple Progress. Her eyes were a fiery green, beaming with violent commitment.

"Uni?!" the Goddess gasped, more angry than surprised. "Step down! This is far over your head, little girl."

"Don't call me that, ever!" Uni retorted, brandishing a large futuristic rifle. "And I thought I made it clear that our interests don't align."

"Is that so?" The Goddess growled, yanking her sword from the dirt. "You wish to die rather than see your precious sister's face again? For what, a puny human that means nothing to you?"

"Life is precious, Purple Heart. I- I won't let you keep killing like this!"

"Noire will know of your treachery. Of how you abandoned our people."

"I didn't abandon anyone! I- Ach!" Uni was cut off by a sudden thrust from Neptune's sword jabbing her in her black bodysuit.

"You're too weak, Uni. Give up now and I'll spare you from any more suffering." The CPU struck again, but this time the candidate managed to block it with the strong barrel of her weapon.

Uni grunted, pushing back the assailant. "Don't test me. This ends now!"

The two powerful beings initiated true combat, each fighter refusing to back down. Ammunition flew above the forest as Purple Heart dodged with refined precision, but Uni refused to let her opponent get close enough to land a critical hit, instead focusing on speed and aggression to keep her head in the game.

The clash of titans proved excellent cover for the second of Uni's party to enter the fray.

Garland jogged out from the shadows, letting the heat of the flames wash over him as he kneeled beside the boy soldier.

"We're getting you out of here." With two firm hands, the private hoisted the kid up to his feet. "Try to work with me here, we need to move fast."

With Nathan's arm slung behind Garlands neck, the two humans swiftly departed from the scene without looking back. The sounds of unyielding combat latched onto their ears as they pushed deeper and deeper into the forest. The fires of the train were but a distant memory by the time the sun peeked its first anxious rays onto Lastation.

Nathan wondered if Uni made it out safely, and Garland grew worried as time ticked on.

In time, it grew quiet.

In time, everyone thought, things would get better.

* * *

 **Happy Halloween everyone!**


	18. To War

**D-Day, H-hour+60**

"They're here, sir. I have the Rear Admiral of Carrier Strike Group Eight on the phone, they're awaiting your orders."

Jens Calligher, President of the United States and enthusiastic military leader, stood with his arms crossed behind a railing of a secret room in the Pentagon. His eyes were glued to the massive monitor on the opposite wall, rows upon rows of computers separating his elevated position from the display.

It wasn't a matter of how New York City would fall to the enemy, it was only a matter of time.

With that mindset, the current military objective was not to hold the city, but to inflict immeasurably extensive losses to the enemy with almost none to their own. That was the main idea for most operations with any foe, but the unique circumstances that the US military were presented with made those tasks more important than ever.

With almost no experienced personnel on the ground at the moment, even a minor defeat with proportionally low loss of life would be a military disaster in the grand scheme of things.

"Do they have to ask me?" Jens asked, frowning. "They have full autonomy to do what needs to be done in order to satisfy our objectives."

"Understood." The man with the phone turned away from the president, returning to his post to inform the Navy of their orders.

The first explosions sounded off just one hour ago, long enough for the remainder of the city to be evacuated to the best of their ability, leaving the city completely empty of civilian life. The militarized life, however, lay prepared and in wait for their defensive advantage to kick in as soon as the enemy took a wrong turn or stepped on a mine, triggering a fatal ambush or worse.

They knew that the enemy Goddesses were on the field, Green Heart's intelligence gave them enough of a heads-up to prepare decent countermeasures.

All of a sudden, the screen displayed trios of dots popping above the city. Ten, twenty, no, thirty sets of three triangles materialized out of nowhere. Hovercraft air transportation, no doubt. They were going to deploy their forces right in the middle of Central Park.

"Have they deployed the portal?" Jens demanded of a general at his side.

"That's our cue." The general affirmed with a stolid nod, his eyes glued to the screen. "Our surviving anti-air systems should have the skies zeroed in. Let's hope that everything goes according to plan."

Just as his words left his mouth, a dozen or more blue arrows shot out at the triangles, wiping them off the map in an instant. Despite the initial bombardment by the enemy, the majority of the SAM launchers were hidden in shelters or under cover. It came as no surprise that the enemy hovercraft were downed so quickly, but what did come as a surprise was that the screen's update feed from New York to DC lagged.

The remaining hovercraft, either unaffected by the strikes or limping to the ground, flew through a mess of metal shrapnel as they attempted to reach their landing zones.

"We won't be so lucky next time." The general sighed, slightly relieved. Green Heart's intel proved accurate- her description of the initial attack was on point. "After this, anything could happen."

"Let's just make sure that things don't get out of hand until the end." Jens Calligher said firmly, his palms gripping the railing of the situation room.

"Sir, we have confirmation that high-value targets are in Central Park!" A man sitting at a computer shouted, his headphones partially pushed off his head. "Ground forces are backing off."

"Alright." Jens started with a determined yet shaky voice. "Get the infantry to lure them to where our armor get get a shot at them. Remember, we're playing for time here."

"Understood!" The man at the computer replied, throwing his full attention back to his screen.

The dozens of other operators were committed to their duty, delivering real-time support and updates to troops on the ground in hopes of alleviating chaos and confusion.

" _Echo 4-1, an enemy landing zone is due east of your position at the corner of Delancey street and Williamsburg bridge! Hold your ground, I'm redirecting Strike Eagles converge with JDAMs."_

" _Enemy landing at Firefighter's field! Gold 2-1, do not engage, we have special forces already in contact on the island."_

" _Be advised, air support is not available at this time, all assets are occupied. Sorry, you're on your own for now."_

" _Copy. I've got a fireteam of four pushing south from the Consulate of Vietnam to the UN Headquarters. Resistance is light at the moment… wait one… Foxtrot, expect to encounter high value targets in the next five minutes…. Copy, I've got the USS Ramage off of Liberty Island to offer Tomahawk missile support. Just send the word."_

* * *

 **H-hour+80**

" _Shot out!_ "

A radio sputtered out a message from far away, but it was lost in the snap of the whistling wind.

The wind was rough, way too rough. The blasts from fracturing skyscrapers sent out waves of fire and wind, pushing the men of Romeo platoon's Alpha squad back and forth as if they were a bobblehead at the mercy of the world.

The view from the top of their skyscraper was awe inspiring, which was specifically why it was preemptively chosen for them by high command. As the eyes and ears of the Army, their mission was to give targets to the artillery guns on Long Island. Intensive planning had already accommodated for possible artillery targets through the city, but it was a matter of selecting which target was ripe for each strike.

" _Splash, out!_ "

Alpha squad's Sergeant stood with his back to the sun, his hands on his hips and his eyes on a patch of cement far below the men.

Almost three dozen soldiers in black were streaming out of their respective ships, the signs of combat starting to show despite the main attack beginning only moments earlier. Cars were pushed out of the way alongside fallen traffic poles and street signs to create a suitable landing site by soldiers who had fast-roped, clearing the way for armored vehicles and more nefarious weapon platforms.

The first 155mm artillery shell crashed into a hovercraft trying to weave up the street, towards the sky. The round sent shockwaves through the air, shattering windows and even causing the ship to halt in its ascent.

The limping ship pressed upwards in an attempt to escape, but it proved fruitless. The second shot landed on the control area, instantly killing the crew with it's intensity.

Now crewless and inoperable, the massive behemoth slowly but surely sputtered out of power and tilted, its leftmost engines decimated from the damage.

It crashed into the nearby skyscraper, sending glass, parts of metal and chunks of furniture further into the building and even more down to the ground, sending a lethal shower of debris down onto the terrified ground forces.

The debris was accompanied by even more artillery, ravaging the street and sending concrete into the sky. The air was clouded in so much smoke that the terrified survivors, not instantly killed by the falling building or parts of the ship, meandered meaninglessly through the dust, only to be flung out towards the sidewalk by the next artillery shell.

They hadn't even had a chance to take in their surroundings.

"Good effect on target, that's like twenty-plus kills right there."

" _What, you want an airstrike?_ " The artillery officer responded in surprisingly good humor despite the situation.

"No," The squad leader sighed, taking in the brilliant city around him. "That would be overkill."

The dust started to settle in this section of New York, but deeper into the city, other landing zones held a different story.

* * *

The rat-tat-tat of machine guns screamed in the private's ears, almost as if a million fireworks were going off right next to him. Reminded him of Chinese New Year. Reminded him of days past.

Those days were shot clean off the wall both physically and metaphorically as a burst of returning fire plunged into the wall behind the boy, the bullets impacting a picture frame and causing it to collapse into chunks. This repurposed living room looked nothing like it should have.

A lull in machine gun fire was the cue for the enemy in the courtyard to return fire. Bullets streamed in through a reinforced window, the wooden panels and sandbags being impacted with dozens of futuristic bullets, each one of the barricades threatening to burst at any moment.

"Keep those M240's hot! Dammit, get that gunner some ammo! You!" A man without a helmet crouched low as bullet casings and smoke wafted through the air. He kneeled beside a window fortified with sandbags, gesturing towards a young teenager with a death grip on his rifle. "Ammo's running low, go and see if Bravo team has any to spare! Now!"

Shaken out of his disbelief, the child soldier stepped to lis right, where the door was.

He burst out of the door and into the hallway. It looked nothing like it had an hour ago, with jagged shadows painted onto the walls from bullet holes in the windows alongside the tattered curtains on the floor. It was surreal- the noise, the panic, the anxiety, the war.

The kid dashed down the hall as fast as his legs would take him, hoping that he would make it to the apartment complex next door. Unfortunately that was not the case, as the cannon of an explosive weapon fired and the wall exploded next to him, shrapnel and hunks of wood slipping through his armor and into his skin.

1234567890

"I think I got one!" A woman in black yelled, kneeling behind a low wall with a rocket launcher in hand.

They had fast-roped into a tiny, square courtyard with tall skyscrapers peaking up on all four sides. It was ideal for an ambush, and almost half their team was slaughtered as soon as they had set foot on the ground. They should've seen it ahead of time, but their leadership's blunder was their demise.

"I can't hear you!" Another soldier, this one a man, screamed beside her. He covered his ears with his hands, his back pressed against the wall for dear life. "What did you say?"

"Doesn't matter!" She replied, dropping the disposable launcher onto the ground and hoisting her weapon off the urban ground.

They were incredibly disorganized. Their section leader was killed before half the team touched down, leaving everyone who survived the bloodbath in the dark. With no orders and with fire coming from one, two- was it three? Four sides? With fire coming from just about everywhere, the soldiers had no choice but to live with the terrible decisions made by their superiors.

At least, they hoped that they would live.

The man kept his head down and ears covered. He wasn't even going to try and return fire! What a coward!

"Don't give up! We can still win this!" She chanted, hoping that someone would hear her and be inspired alongside her. But no one heard her over the sound of guns, and she shivered from the wind rushing past her face. Bullets were getting too close for comfort.

In her inventory was a katana, one passed down through her family for two generations. They were all fighters, warriors who fought off the monsters that had tried to pillage their town in the southern end of Lastation. It was a tough life, and every time she saw that katana she was reminded of home and what she was fighting for. Every time she wielded it she felt it's power, it's history, surging through her veins.

 _This time,_ she thought, _it would take life._

The girl let her rifle slip onto the ground, and with her heart racing fast and faster, pulled out a long black katana from her inventory. The blade pointed at the window of the machine gunner, and in it's metal reflected the muzzle flash of the gun. It was just a handful of meters away. She could take him if she was fast enough.

She took a breath, her eyes eerily still as they locked on her foe.

She vaulted over the wall as a burst of machine gun fire punched her in the chest, her legs still swinging high into the air.

Ignoring the damage, the girl held out her sword with fury in her eyes. A second gun from the building on her left got a handful of hits on her thigh, but she couldn't feel it as her feet pounded against the cement floor.

She bent her knees, then lept with strength she never knew she had, right towards the window. Her hands gripped the edges of its reinforcement, fingers almost slipping despite the grip provided from her gloves. As the man on the gun screamed, holding down the trigger as hard as he humanely could, she felt her right arm swing back.

Beneath her mask, she smiled like the devil.

* * *

 **H-hour+105**

"Sir, we lost communications with all ground forces in Manhattan and with New York command in the UN Building. We don't know if they are dead or not, but units on the edge of the area are reporting terrible communications quality."

The general, now alone at his post in the Pentagon war room, sighed with tense anger. "Give our men in the Bronx the order for Scorched Earth, they know what to do."

Lights flickered across both the aide and the general's eyes. More and more red triangles and dots were appearing on screen with a wide grey circle now popping up in the center, representing Manhattan and the recent loss of communications. They didn't expect for the enemy to gain an upper hand that quickly…

"We also need to evacuate our forward observers. Dispatch helicopters and CAS to cover them." He looked back at the big screen, getting anxious at the rapidly turning tide. "What's the status on enemy HVTs?"

"Not good." The man replied. "Last seen entering the UN building. New York command will probably go down-

"We were supposed to have this contained, dammit!" The general snapped, hissing and pressing his fingers into his forehead. He sighed, grinding his teeth together.

Knowing that his country's most prominent city was going to crumble was heart wrenching. There was nothing worse than hearing that there was essentially nothing that he could to save his home do but flatten it. Defeat was not an option, but how could he turn this around?

What options remained to keep his men strong, his subordinates keen and enemy losses high? What could he do to keep fighting even though all hope was gone, and our homes were nothing but rubble?

People pressed down on their headphones, shuffling orders and requests like the experienced crew of a fast-paced restaurant.

"Sorry." He apologized. A pause, more red triangles appearing on screen, moving fast. Jets. "Get everyone out of the city who wants to leave. We knew we wouldn't be able to win. It's not worth fighting a lost battle."

"Sir?" The aide questioned. Had be gone insane? It had only been an hour. Things could change, right?

"Listen closely." The general looked the man in the eyes. "Everyone who _wants_ to leave can fall back. Everything else is out of my jurisdiction, and I'll manage the defense with the remnants. You hear me?"

"Clearly, sir." He replied with a nod. That was his cue to leave.

The air was heavy. Time was out.

The aide left, leaving "Mad Dog" Mattis in relative silence. He remembered the past, how when faced with unspeakable circumstances and a drive to fight, people could work wonders. The books he read, the things he knew pointed to insurgencies across the world, past and present. He could learn from the past.

The general remembered a quote, a prominent quote said by a man in a similar situation to his own right now.

" _We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender, and if, which I do not for a moment believe, this island or a large part of it were subjugated and starving, then our Empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by the British Fleet, would carry on the struggle, until, in God's good time, the New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old_."

Never before did he feel such a desire to fight on.

But in the way that Churchill had an ally and an Empire to call on, what did he have to call on? Was there going to be a second chance? Was this all the strength his world had to call on?

After all, America is widely considered to be the world's strongest military. If we couldn't hold on to one city in our own backyard...

Was this humanity's last breath?

He felt cornered. Beaten. At wit's end.

But then again, that's where people fight best.

* * *

 **H-hour+140**

The UN Headquarters was on fire from the inside out.

Smoke from piles of burning documents, treaties and strongly-worded letters suffocated people who couldn't get out in time. Some put their lives on the line knowing the bigger picture. Others died due to lack of communication and being trapped in the upper floors, the stairway collapsed from a missile strike.

The gargantuan sized golden room in the center of the complex, the General Assembly Hall, lied in disrepair. The giant UN emblem hanging above the main podium was cracked in several places, standing in shame before the two Goddesses of Gamindustri.

"How symbolic." Noire muttered, suspended in mid-air. Her bloodied sword hung low from her right hand, not quite sure what to think.

"Yeah." Blanc said confidently, placing her hands behind her blue haired head, mock-relaxing as she leaned back, above the ground. "Shows that there's nothing stopping us now."

"We should keep moving. This battle is far from over." Black Heart stated, gripping her sword more with a little more force. Her eyes were drawn from the UN emblem's to Blanc's.

"Hmm." White Heart grumbled, reluctantly returning to a normal position. "You're right. But what's next? We met our objectives so far, despite some hiccups. More head-bashing, huh?"

"That's one way to put it… but I'd like to think of it in a sense that we are winning a war, Blanc. Killing isn't the objective."

"Killing means winning in my book, and it feels great to tear through these fuckers after what they've done to us." White Heart smirked at Noire. "I'll head on out, then. Meet you outside!"

And with that, Blanc turned and departed without a second thought.

 _Blanc enjoys… killing?_ Noire thought, eyebrows furrowed in disgust. _What's gotten into her?_

It was in her nature to fight and win. Sure, Blanc liked to beat people up ever so often and sure her anger would get out of her control once in awhile. But killing? She's a Goddess, not a serial killer… right?

Noire felt a sort of disdain for the people Earth, but only because they were locked in conflict and well, war was war. But she didn't seek revenge against people who were fighting a fight. She didn't kill for the sake of killing.

The way she talked about tearing through people seemed so… barbaric.

Maybe she was exaggerating. Yeah, that must be it.

Then again, she didn't see them as people at all.

 _That's the only way that I'd be able to live with myself._

Noire thought, looking up at the broken symbol of Earth's unity. She felt something in her gut for the tenth time today. Felt… wrong.

 _Can I live with myself?_

* * *

" _This is BRP Andrés Bonifacio of the Philippine Navy, state your name and business in these waters, over."_

" _Andrés Bonifacio, this is the USS McCampbell of the United States Navy, our carrier strike group is westbound through these waters en route to Hong Kong. We have with us a boatload of crayon-eaters who would love nothing more than to help you secure your sea, over._ "

"... _We couldn't be happier to hear that, over._ "

" _Likewise, out_."

* * *

 **It's a meme that Marines eat crayons due to their stupidity, and that's why they are given the nickname "Crayon-eaters" as a joke.**


	19. Where We Once Belonged

I'm terrified. My skin crawls, my blood boils, my eyes dart left, right, up, down, but I see nothing.

It's pitch dark. It hurts to raise my hand above my eyes, but when I wave my hand I can't see even the tips of my fingers, even when it's all right in front of my face.

Where am I? I try to shift my body, and I can feel something with a similar consistency to a cushion beneath me.

Last time I checked I was out in the woods, getting beat down by some purple person… purple person?

That was on the train, if I remember correctly… and it hurts to think. A throbbing headache pounds at the corners of my skull, making it impossible to think. Making it impossible to feel anything but pain, anything but this moment in time. And it's a long, long moment.

I can't count the seconds but I know that time is passing.

What time is it?

All I have are questions without answers. And I can't wait for time to pass. Or… can I?

It feels so good to rest, to just let time pass me by and for me to play a passive role in the grand scheme of things. I'm not fighting, I'm not running, I don't have anywhere to be. At least, I hope so. It sure seems like it.

My throat is parched, and when my tongue tickles the roof of my mouth it feels like sandpaper. My lips feel as if they are cracking from the lack of moisture, and my skin feels stiff. I'm going to need water.

With my ache-ridden, bruised and battered brain focused on the present, I think in terms of now.

I hear silence. I hear dripping off to my right, a very short distance away, and it's at the same elevation as myself. Drinkable water?

I'm scared again, even with the promise of water. My eyes are open and peering towards the dripping but I can't see anything. What's out there? My body is tingling, too afraid to pull myself up and investigate.

Alright. I breathe deeply, in and out. I blink twice, by pupils exposed to the unyielding void. I'll get up. I need to get up. Do I need to get up? It feels good to rest…

No, no, no! I have to get up. I keep telling myself that, and I'm not sure why. The reason is on the tip of my tongue, on the cusp of my memory, but I don't know anymore. It hurts to remember.

I quickly pat myself down, getting a grasp of my situation.

There's a nasty bruise on my left thigh, and I jerk my hand back with pain after I pat it. I keep investigating and notice my holster on my right thigh. Without a second though I pull out my M9, letting it sway in front of my blinded eyes. My fingers feel it's grip, and my thumb feels the sticker. It's the flag, it's a symbol. It's what I'm fighting for, right? That's why I have to get up. There's people that need to be saved.

It's a pretty stupid reason, now that I think about it. Someone else can go and save people. I'm just one face in a crowd. Insigifigant.

But I'm here. No one else, at least as far as I know, is in my situation. I'm unique. Maybe I have a role to play. Feels weird, having the chance to affect history. I'm not sure if I can make a difference, but I might as well try. I have arms, legs, and a gun. Gun being the most important.

I ought to get up. If not for me, then for those who can't.

My legs drag themselves off the cushioned platform they rested on, right up until they reach the edge of the platform and dangle down. My shoes still can't touch the ground, but I have a feeling that the surface isn't that far away.

In what feels like a leap of faith, I let myself slip off the platform and onto the ground. For a moment my heart sinks, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

With my arms extended out in front of me, I shuffle blindly through the darkness towards the dripping. Expecting a sink, my hands dangle out and eventually reach a surface. With some eager patting, I realize that it is, in fact, a sink. Water seems to have congested into it's bastion from the spout which is connected to a ceiling, maybe a cabinet overhead. That means that I had to have landed in some sort of industrial or commercial area, as residential structures don't have this type of sink.

I let my hand be washed in the short drips. It's a refreshing feeling, and I'm tempted to let my famished mouth take in some of the precious liquid, but something stops me.

The consistency of the water is way too… strange. It's a little like soup, some parts thicker and other parts flowing freely like normal water. That's… really ominous. Like really, really ominous. So ominous that I immediately remove my hand from the dripping water and wipe the liquid above my knee, probably staining my pants.

I need to find light. Like, really, really badly. I can't be stumbling around in the dark like this if I want to stay alive for long.

As soon as that thought races through my head, there's several flashes of light off to my left, streaking across the floor like a blinding strobe light. There's a door there! As the sounds of feet stomping gets closer, my feet step lighter and my breathing gets slower in an attempt to quiet myself. The light of the flashlight keeps dancing under the doorframe, illuminating bits of floor in the process.

Keeping my feet as still as possible, I shift my upper body towards the door and raise my weapon. I don't know who's coming through or who's carrying the damn flashlight, and although I feel ready to shoot, my knees start to buckle from the suddenness of it all.

The steps come to halt right outside the door, and I hear mumbling. A young yet fairly deep voiced man says something unintelligible as the door knob clicks, letting the door swing inwards with an aged croak.

The light shines in my face, the newcomer obviously startled to see me standing. Blinded by the light, I raise my weapon and furrow my eyebrows.

"Nate?" He says, and I nearly drop my handgun from the sound. It's a familiar voice. My blood curdles as a shiver runs down my spine.

"It's really you, huh." He continues, lowering the light.

Owen, with his green trapper's hat on his head, looks at me curiously. His clothes look worn beyond what normal people would approve to be fit for use, with grime infesting each crevice and minor tears around the joints. He wears a grey windbreaker over some sort of underlayer, and his pants are some Gamindustrian type that I don't have a name for. Looks something like pale khakis but with more accessories and some kneepads on his knees.

His face looks like the same guy.

But it's not the same guy that I used to know before everything: before high school, before my conscription, before Dunkin Donuts… before he died.

* * *

We talked.

Awkward, sure, but we did talk.

We were supposed to be childhood friends, but if you were to see us right then and there you would've thought otherwise.

I know that there were so many things going through his mind, so many things that he wanted to ask before we inevitably had to either move or be interrupted. And me as well- I wanted to know how he got here, I wanted to know how he survived, I wanted to tell him all the things I had done while we were apart.

All I managed to ask was how he was doing.

"Good." He answered tentatively, loosening his shoulders. "And you took some hits there. That's what Garland said when he brought you in."

"Yeah, I'm feeling alright. A little bruised and thirsty, but I'm good." I looked down at the floor, then back up at him. We were in a janitorial room, one where cleaning tools and equipment would typically be stored, but they pulled a stretcher in there for me to rest on, apparently. "Who's Garland?"

"Eh," Owen shrugged. "Some ass who thinks he's the shit."

I hold myself back from a laugh. "Sounds an awful lot like yourself." I responded casually. He flinched, then looked away for a moment. He reacted awfully aggressively for such a minor comment, not completely unlike him but still strange enough for intrigue to surface.

"Fuckin hell…" He muttered. "I didn't die to go back to this."

"Yeah," I continued. "You died. You wanna, uh, elaborate?"

"No." He crossed his arms, the flashlight getting wedged between his arms. It got a lot darker, but the light from the hallway reflected a dull grey haze into the room.

"Owen-"

"Just fuck off, really. I don't want to hear it, alright?" He raised his voice, storming out into the hall almost as soon as I started talking. Why was he so emotional about this?

I stayed in the room, my arms drooping at my sides. I wanted to ask if he was okay, but knowing him, the last thing he wanted was to be treated like a child.

"You know what, Nate?" He turned to face me, his face twisting and turning with emotions started to boil over. "Do you know what it's like to be killed? Do you know what it's like to be pet like a damn toy?" He started to glower at me, grinding his teeth together as his body grew rigid with anger. "Do you know what it's like to have nothing left? No one to care for you, no one to tell you it's going to be alright? No one left, Nathan! You were dead! Y- you are dead!"

He shuddered, stepping back into the hall with a dazed look. I raised my eyebrows, the picture of worry slathered on my face.

"Do you know what it's like out there?" He kept rambling, voice stuttering and I could see his eyes getting wet with tears. "Nothing makes sense, man. There's nothing out there for us. We're all dead to them."

He almost quieted down, teasing me with hints that he would be ready for me to respond, but he was not pausing for a second as he kept talking. "While you were off, doing JACK SHIT about anything, I've been here. Here in this God-forsaken world with FUCK nothing left. You were dead, Nathan. I. Had. Died! B-but they wouldn't let me die!" He started to slow down, his voice shaking and twisting with each word. "They wouldn't let me die, they wouldn't… t-they wouldn't…"

He dropped to his knees. His face was in his hands, and the last thing he wanted to see was me. I stood in front of him, unsure of what to say. Unsure whether or not to say anything at all. He had seen so much, he had done so much. I wasn't there for him.

" _Hhhh-hhhh….."_ He screeched, his sounds throbbing through his teeth, tearing up at random intervals, tugging at his hat as his knuckles grew pale and my legs stiffened with fear. " _Hhhh-hhh-h!_ "

He had broken, and I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to _do_. He was my last friend! He was a stranger to me, I was a stranger to him, but we were all that we had left! My stomach condensed to a ball, squeezing with an intent to kill.

"Oh, f-fucking hell," I stammered, standing in the doorway with a loose grip on my weapon. I was so close to crying, damnit! Why the hell was he doing this? "What did they do to you, Owen!" I turned my face away, too ashamed to see him in such a state. He was never supposed to look like this.

"What did they do to us…" I muttered, scrunching my lips around and mixing my expression in a plethora of stupid, disgusting ways.

All he could do was keep hiccuping tears, wallowing further into some depression that seemed endless. I wanted to reassure him, tell him that it was going to be okay, but it wasn't. I know that he was held prisoner. He was the one that they had taken. What… what did they do to him? How long was he holding this in?

We were in school less than three months ago. My mom was cooking these stupid chocolate-chip pancakes, and since I hated vegetables a long time ago she would cut these carrot chunks into them as well, a habit of the past that never went away. Owen would come over, we would all laugh at the whole silliness of it all and then he would go to the backyard and have a smoke. I would scold him, he wouldn't care, and then we would talk about our stupid teachers, how they did nothing to teach us and how we had to learn the damn stuff ourselves. It was always worth the laugh. Screw those teachers.

It's so… wrong to see him again. Not like this. I've killed people. I've done things so alien that it's not right to see him again after so long, after so much has happened to change us both.

He's been killed, time and time again. That's easy to infer. Was that what brought him to break like this? What else happened to change him so much? Did… did I bring him over the edge?

Fucking hell, I probably got him to think back. Back to when things still weren't perfect, but even those times were still so, so much better than they are now. That must've brought him to compare all the loss he's experienced, all the terror from captivity and the other unsaid shit that happened to him.

I remember corpses, 5pb in the worst stage of fear, blood on my hands as I killed people in the train.

I look down, down at my pants. There's blood on them.

Blood where I smeared that liquid from earlier. I froze, choking in breath and nearly dropping my gun.

"Upstairs, Nate," Owen growled through his pain, still clutching his hat. "T-they're coming down here now."

"What?" I shriek, my heart pulsating faster and faster. "Who's here? Who's coming down here?"

"I don't fucking know!" He shouted, lifting his eyes up to meet mine. They were red from crying. And red… red from something else. "And she wants me to kill you, she wants me to kill you…"

"Go slower, Owen," I kneeled down, my head on a swivel to my left and right. The halls were empty, but paranoia had taken me by the thin strings of life I still had. "I don't- I don't understand. Who- who are they? Who is upstairs? Who is she?"

"They are!" He shrieked, trying to pull away from me. "They followed Uni- that BITCH!"

Owen kept rambling, and my arms were weak. "T-they have guns, masks, night vision, swords, fuckin' magic man!" His eyes were wide open, and his pupils were flashing red like a sign of danger. "I don't know anymore, I don't know…"

He started crying again. "She talks to me… told me to do things…" He started panting heavily. His arms were glued to his hat. "Get… get away from me. Please!"

I stepped back, only to collapse against a wall. _What was going on?_ _Someone, please tell me!_ I wasn't thinking anymore, I was **begging**. _My friend is insane. There's blood coming from the ceiling and I feel like I'm going to die…_

Breathe. Breathe in, breathe out. No voice in my head. I can think clearer than before. Just need to breathe. Breathing always works. Right?

Okay.

Okay.

I feel my gun, I feel the blood on my pants. I can hear the dripping, but I can also hear footsteps. Lots of footsteps coming down the stairs on my left. Heavy footsteps.

Things are going to be alright. I need to take this one step at a time.

So, those soldiers haven't given up yet. Uni, the person I was supposed to meet, did something wrong and led them here. Okay. So far so good.

My best friend is actually alive. He's right in front of me, he's gone insane and has pulsating eyeballs. That's okay. Might be normal. I will need to look that symptom up later.

"Owen, you said that they were coming. The soldiers, right? Then we need to leave." I look down on him, but all he does is curl tighter into his ball, and sniff.

"Nate. T-there's something wrong with me."

"There's always something wrong with you. We can get through this, we always do. Remember that marker episode you had? We got through that. We can get through this." My speaking pace was getting faster and faster, the pressure of being compromised getting heavier with each passing second.

"It's not like that." Owen raised his head up slowly and as if that one simple movement were giving him great pain. His eyes were a sick red. "No." He paused. "I want to die."

I stood there, frozen once again, shocked at his words. I should've expected this, I should've seen this coming. But he was never the type of guy to be like this. Not before.

"Give me the gun." Owen pleased, words straightforward and simple. "I can't live like this. N-not with this thing in my head."

My mouth was left gaping wide. I felt tears coming on. I felt a sinking in my stomach. I felt helpless.

 _Why are you saying this to me? Don't you know that this hurts?_

Owen stared into my eyes with his own red, sickly eyes. His arms reached out like a machine, pulling the pistol out from my weak grip.

He sighed, then panted, then looked at the sticker, then exhaled with great force. He exhaled again, this time with wide, wide eyes. His eyes flashed back to blue, and I almost saw him again.

"Thank you."

.

.

* * *

.

.

I started running as soon as I heard the shouting. They demanded something, but I couldn't hear a damn thing over the feeling of my feet digging into the ground with each step.

I took a left into a classroom, my hands and holster empty. A wall of windows lined the wall across from me, and I looked at my surroundings. Everything here was so… still. Timeless.

Desks with chairs stacked atop them sat in rows facing a whiteboard, some black markings still visible despite the wear of time.

This was a language classroom, looks like they once taught Japanese or it's Gamindustrian equivalent here.

I stand in the center of the room, surrounded by history.

The enemy is stacked against the doorframe behind me. They're going to breach, and I hear the unfurling of a grenade.

It's not raining outside, but it's cloudy as fuck. Almost like it's about to rain. About to pour.

I'm trapped, trapped between the enemy, my mind and the window.

I breathe.

In and out. In and out.

Breathing always helps calm me down. Helps me think.

I remember Vert's smile back in that cafe, then back to how she dragged me out to the concert. Something about these contrasting events make me want to laugh. But it feels wrong.

* * *

It's raining, and Garland kneels next to me as we stare at the school from our vantage point inside a nearby building. It's under construction, with none of the walls finished completely or any furniture installed. I sit inside the room atop a stack of bricks, while he kneels in the empty window frame. Lastation's special forces, as opposed to Planeptune's, have long since stormed the building, and the feeling of dread I had lodged in my stomach is long gone by now.

"Uni," He starts, rubbing the barrel of his rifle with a gloved thumb. The bags under his eye are hard to spot against the backdrop of rain and grey. "You think that we could've done things differently?"

"What do you mean?" I sigh, looking down at my feet. I feel guilty, but I know that there was nothing we could've done for Owen, Stocker or that kid we rescued.

"I don't know." He continues. "Maybe you could've taken the long route back, maybe I could've pulled on that stretcher for a little bit longer. Maybe I could've saved another life."

"Don't dwell on the past like that. Makes you hurt more than you need to." I say, thinking back to when I wrote that letter to my sister. My chest hurts just thinking about it. "There was nothing we could've done. Nothing. Don't keep killing yourself over this."

Garland sighed, pulling himself out from the window frame and into the desolate room. Half his body was soaked, but he didn't show any discomfort. The only emotions could be seen on his face, and even then it was hard to tell.

"I know." Garland says nonchalantly, running a hand across his cheek. He stood in the center of the room, staring down on me.

"Stocker wasn't even there when you got back, right?"

He nodded, lip quivering without a sound.

"Not your fault, then."

He didn't want to hear me, and turned away.

"I- I just feel like I should say sorry to someone. But if what you say is true, then there's no one that I need to apologize to. Feels… wrong. Someone has to be blamed. Someone has to apologize."

My hands are drawn to my hair, which I toy with aimlessly, thinking of something to say. It hurts me to see another person in such distress… but I've already caused so much distress. Maybe I'm the one that has the blame put on them. Maybe I'm the one that has to apologize.

"Garland, stop pacing like that. You're not at fault. I am."

"Oh, what the hell, Uni." Garland sighs with depression dripping from his lips. "Don't start pinning the blame on yourself. You know damn well that what you told to me also applies to you." He throws himself down on the stack of bricks, his body nearing mine.

"I know, I know." I prop my chin up on my right hand, thinking some more. I did do something to affect this. If it weren't for me, none of this would have happened. More people could've been saved I just fell in line. I don't want any sort of pity, although deep down I don't think I would mind it.

"It just sucks." I exhale, keeping my feelings to myself.

Garland looks like he knows I'm in pain, but I get the feeling that I haven't opened up to him enough. I haven't let anyone get close to me, not since I left Lastation. I don't know if that fact will ever change.

There's silence.

The rain falls down on the roof of our partially-constructed house, the pittering and pattering helping me keep my cool. Outside I can hear cars passing by, sometimes people are talking and I hear a whisper of their lives, and at other times there's nothing.

Just silence. Just breathing.


	20. Interception

The woman who claimed to lead the most powerful country in all dimensions known to Gamindustri was stepping out of the UN building when the soldiers came for her in the midst of the afternoon. Running up with rifles in hand, they had fired on the defenders guarding the CPUs and taken up a position alongside the cul de sac, ducking behind abandoned cars and kneeling in wide cracks in the road that were formed from explosive weapon impacts.

With steadfast grips and sharp breathing, they eyed up the Goddess of Lowee with a surmounting fear which only grew as the seconds ticked down.

New York City, proudly the largest and most well-known city in all of North America, glittered in the eyes of the four remaining infantrymen who lasted until this moment, blood pumping and chests nearly bursting from the pressure.

Blanc rose in the air, unnerved at the sudden turn of events. Her weapon was stained with the lives of dozens of others, and the eyes of the blue haired CPU were startlingly calm. Hesitating to smile, the words she spoke slid off her tongue like a snake.

"Have you come here to die?"

None of the men flinched, their fear swallowed and tucked away in their gut. It had almost boiled over as the Goddess eased her way to the ground, unnaturally sliding the tips of her toes across the concrete as the distance between her and the first man grew smaller and smaller.

"Stop!" He shouted, standing completely rigid with his arms, legs and neck as frozen as the world around him. His mind was spiraling, finger twitching as it failed to pull the trigger. He couldn't move, not with those red eyes piercing his own like bullets.

"What are you going to do, coward?" She stopped, boldly standing with a straightened back. "You're dead."

The man's fragile eyes flickered beneath his glasses, which sat snug inside the confines of his helmet. Through his black balaclava his misty breath wafted into the world, clouding the gaze solidifying between him and Blanc.

He blinked, eyes struggling to open for the last time. He whispered to himself, the echos of a forlorn hope sinking like rocks in his lungs.

" _We must die, so let us die bravely._ "

The half-dozen or so grenades stuffed in his clothing felt heavy, but only for a moment.

* * *

A rush of cold winter air filled Noire's lungs as she stepped, somewhat unconfidently, out of the UN General Assembly, the feeling of fulfilment dancing on the edges of her thoughts alongside the shroud of impending doom.

Unsure whether or not to feel victorious with the fulfilment of her objectives, the CPU of Lastation let her long white hair be swept up in the breeze. Her head was down, averting the scene of urban devastation before her in hopes that the debris-covered floor would be an easier option.

Blanc had been taken by surprise just moments earlier, the detonation Noire heard being the end result of some incident that she didn't really want to know about.

"Are you alright?" Black Heart asked politely as the footsteps of her ally drew near. She kept her eyes on the ground, still lost in thought.

"I'll be fine…" White Heart grumbled, shuddering with the buzz of a bell ringing freshly in her ears. "I'll be damned. These fuckwads have all lost it."

Noire looked up, confused. "Who, the natives?"

"Hell yeah." Blanc solemnly nodded, resting her hands on her hips. "Fuckin..."

"What's wrong?" Noire asked with genuine kindness tucked in her words. "You don't seem alright."

Blanc sighed, her scowl caught in an identity crisis with its twists and turns. She wiped a splotch of red from her cheek and shook her hand forcefully, letting the material be flung to the ground haphazardly.

Her lower lip quivered, and her eyes remained a shallow red.

As the CPU of Lowee's voice trailed off, she started to walk away, down the side of the building.

"Hey, come back! D- don't just walk away so soon, aren't we going to wrap this up?" Noire called out, instinctively extending a hand.

"Leave me alone for a sec," She raised her voice, then let it conclude with a sigh. "I'll be back."

With an explosion of pure white light, Blanc transformed back into her human form, letting her arms sway at her sides as she walked further and further away. Without looking back, the Goddess turned the corner of the building.

Now, with her blue human eyes, Blanc stood, somewhat ashamed, at the corner. In front of her was a wide, wide river with chunks of ice and wood floating on its surface. Far across from her was the other bank of the river, and the tall concrete towers were buzzing with action.

Jet planes streaked over their tips, and hovercraft soared high above the streets. Gunfire and the flames of war flickered through the windows, glass cracking and shots snapping.

The Goddess of White Serenity flinched as a missile whipped through the sky, slamming into the rear of one of her ships as it rose into the sky, it's cargo deployed. It kept rising as an enemy fighter jet raced past it, booming through the sound barrier and leaving behind a vapor cone as the only indication of it ever being there.

How many of her people have died so far?

That thought drew her to close her eyes, not wanting to think of the cost. Not now, not before, not later. At least, that's what she told herself.

That man… he killed himself to try and kill her.

His eyes weren't afraid. His eyes weren't afraid.

That was deliberate. He knew what he was doing. He knew what he was leaving behind, he knew that he was going to die. He wouldn't know if she would die as well. Hell, he probably knew that she was going to live.

He. Him. All pronouns of people.

They might as well be people. If they thought in the same way that she did, then they would probably do what they are doing right now. If she thought in the same way that they did, well, Blanc didn't really know how she would act. But the more that question sat in her mind, the more it came to her that the two dimension's people are more similar than initially thought.

But that was insane. If they really were the same, then they wouldn't die so easily. They would have CPUs to protect them.

Huh. They don't have CPUs.

Yeah, they didn't. Blanc knew that beforehand, but only now did that settle in. Of course they were going to be on the losing side. But even then, it was quite a fight they put up. At least when her people were courageous and strong. At least if she were there herself.

Maybe that man thought he could get something done by blowing them both up. Maybe he thought there was no other way to protect those he cared about. Maybe she had it easy, being a CPU and all. Maybe… maybe… maybe…

 **They slaughtered your people. Remember what happened last week.**

Yeah… _They're no better than criminals. Murderers._

 **They didn't even care about you. They wanted you to die. Now and earlier.**

 _Of course, those bastards…_ Blanc clenched her fists, her lips curling into a snarl as her knees quivered with a building urge to move.

 **They don't forgive you. There will never be peace.**

Blanc's eyes flickered, a sickly hue of red threatening what lie in her wake.

 **It's you or them.**

 _...It sure as hell won't be me._

* * *

"Lady Black Heart," A woman with short, faint green hair stood in the doorway of the UN building. Holding the door open, she gestured inside with a pistol. "There's someone you might want to meet."

Noire turned to face the voice and nodded. After a brief sigh, she stepped inside. "Thank you, Vio. I hope my time isn't going to waste. Who is this person, and why are you reporting directly to me?"

"Hmph." The girl smiled as she led the two deeper into the building, through halls and past offices. "My subordinates found a survivor, and we've taken him captive. He appears to have been in the process of destroying some documents that I believe would be in your best interest to have a look at."

"Very well." Noire replied as she walked, pleased. Along the walk, paintings of landscapes and photographs of important people lined the walls, some having been damaged in the brutal hand-to-hand combat that ensued inside in these halls. Noire kept her head on a swivel, letting her hungry eyes take in the dimly-lit art as she walked.

Once the two had reached the entrance of a conference room, Vio stopped. She raised her hand, indicated for her superior to hold for a moment. After a gentle rap on the door, a soldier briskly swung it open from the inside.

A duo of soldiers stood on the flanks of a cowering man in a suit, his hands firmly pressed on his forehead as his worried cheeks were squashed by the carpet below. The oval table beside him was littered with both burned papers and fresh documents, the smoke from a freshly put-out fire draping across the ceiling like storm clouds.

"Oh God! What's nex-"

Before the official could keep speaking, a soldier kneed him in the side, forcing him to groan in pain.

"Hey!" Black Heart snapped as she entered the room, forcing herself past Vio and through the doorway. "No need to beat someone who's already down!" She glared at the disciplinarian, who stepped back in a hurry.

After a second, she kneeled down to his level. Her movements were slow and deliberate, in sharp contrast from the people before her.

"I'm terribly sorry for what they did to you." Noire looked up at Vio, then back down at the back of the man's head. "Are you alright?"

He coughed, a bit of blood staining the carpet.

"Lady," He said briskly and with a hint of aggression. "I want nothing to do with you."

Noire sighed, displeased at his response, then brought herself back to her feet.

"Okay." She faced Vio, who stared back indifferently. Letting her arms droop to her sides, the CPU of Lastation spoke without a filter on her exhaustion. "Here we have an uncooperative native. What's so important here? Why can't you handle this on your own?"

Vio rolled her eyes. "Because," She reached over to the table in the center of the room, rummaging through some papers with an aura of frustration. "You may want to ask him about this shit."

Finishing her words with intense scorn, she stepped back. Vio's hands were clenched together, and her eyebrows were furrowed with an intensity only matched by that of a villain. Something wasn't right. Why was she so angry?

"Let me see…" Noire extended an arm, retrieving the first document. "Transcript of… What the hell?"

Noire stormed over the the official, and without a shred of mercy, hoisted him up by the collar of his suit and pinned him against the wall with a thud. With the devil in her eyes, the only thing that could come to mind was retaliation.

"How! What!" Noire shook her head violently, thinking of the right thing to say. After a sharp breath, she brought her head closer to his. This was unbelievable. Just the title spoke volumes about the unfathomable.

This could change everything.

"Why does this talk about Green Heart? What…" Noire took in a breath, then shuddered with exposed emotion. "What does this mean for our _ally_?"

* * *

The streets of Planeptune hummed with a mellow energy, the cars and buses of the superpower's capital cityscape held up in the stop-and-go traffic of the afternoon rush hour. Unfortunately for the remaining fighters of the Guild and even the common citizen of this city, holing up in their cars and homes without a care for any sort of war, the drums of war were beating with more and more fury, and they were beating for them.

Through the entire city, loudspeakers on buses, televisions with their station hosts, and even mobile devices with their music apps switched on all blared the same message. Not only was more patriotism and loyalty needed in these tough times, but more people had to fight.

The news said that the amount of revival medicine in Planeptune's shelves were nearly bare. All who have revival items in their houses are required by law to deliver them to their local hospital donation box, and all who are adept with revival skills must report to the Basilicom to serve their country.

But that wasn't enough. More bodies were needed to replenish numbers lost in the terrible bunder of a campaign that had just happened. People knew, despite the opposition being told to them by their news outlets, that their coalition forces surrounding Russia's Moskovsky District had been cut off during the heavy snowfall. No letters or emails were sent home for nearly a whole week, and families had long since given up hope for their loved ones.

That wasn't the only thing on the military's clause for conscription. Dark, foreboding clouds were forming in the east, towards the neighboring country of Lastation.

Buses heading towards the city's southern harbor were unpleasantly surprised to find themselves stuck in heavy traffic. The word of the incoming draft had spread like wildfire, and people eager to escape military service were fleeing to Leanbox, the one country in Gamindustri without harsh conscription laws in place and a flourishing Guild to prove it.

With no other destination left for them aside from the front lines, the people in each crowded bus sat with a shadow of unease as a backdrop for their emigration.

"Falcom, right?"

Falcom looked up from her mobile device, giving the voice to her right her full attention. The seat was occupied by a girl with straight black hair and red fingerless gloves.

"Yes, that's me." She nodded. "I feel like I know you, but your name eludes me."

"Ah, it's Tekken, remember me? We met at 5pb's concert a week ago and talked about food."

The memory of the fighter came back to the girl, who smiled at the thought of fish fillet with Leanboxic dogoo jelly lathered on top. Mexican lemon juice too, if only money were not an issue. "Mhm, I remember you for sure. Sorry, I was just kinda caught up for a sec. Reading." She clarified, easing Tekken's quaint confusion. "You know how it is, right?"

"Yeah, but it's a little different for me. I can get lost with training a lot, so I get you." There was a pause as the bus moved forwards for a dozen feet, then slowed back down to halt. Falcom rolled her eyes at the traffic.

"What are you reading?" Tekken asked, but then her voice shrunk to a whisper. "If you don't mind me asking."

"It's…" Falcom trailed off, thinking back further. She felt a little guilty about what was in the news article, although she had nothing to do with its contents. At least, not much.

"It's about those banned radio broadcasts that were going off. You know those, right?"

"Definitely." Tekken smirked, a little ashamed for admitting to have disobeyed the law, even if just a bit. "I had to listen to a little, especially with everyone talking about it and all."

"Yeah." Falcom smiled knowingly in conjunction to Tekken. "I'm surprised that the girl for Famitsu News managed to meet the guy behind it at all, face to face."

"Really?" Tekken gasped. "What does she say about him? Is he really from Earth, or was he just some dangerous delinquent?"

"I don't know if she was telling the whole truth, not while lying in the hospital and under surveillance. But!" Falcom kept talking, not letting Tekken grow too impatient. "She said that he was not that bad of a guy, and that she thinks he was from Earth. Not explicitly, but if you check out the word choice it's kinda obvious."

"That's really cool." The fighter acknowledged in awe. "I'd give anything to have a chance to meet one of them. You know, Earth people."

"Even ship out to the front?" The Adventuress teased.

"..." Tekken blushed, looking down at her feet with shame. "Maybe, but it really depends."

"Hmm." Falcom sighed. "I just don't want to go out there and have to kill people. That's why I'm here, you know."

"I get your point." The black haired girl agreed. "But it's a whole other world, a different planet with different cultures and places to explore. Wouldn't you want to have a chance to visit that place for yourself?"

"Oh yeah! No doubt. But you might not be sent out there." Falcom leveled out her tone, letting Tekken know that she was starting to talk seriously. "Apparently there's a resistance cell brewing in Lastation, right on the border. Townsfolk getting fed up and resisting Lastation's draft, or at least that's what they're telling us. I hear Purple Heart might throw us over the border to wipe them out since Noire isn't doing jack."

"Jeez…" Tekken sighed, rubbing her chin with a hand. "That'd suck. I already said I don't want to kill, and now we might be shooting at each other? I have friends in Lastation." Tekken paused for a moment thinking of them. "There's a difference between fighting and killing for the sake of killing. And even then, it's still pretty messed up."

"Yeah." Falcom agreed, exhaling a breath she didn't know she was holding.

The bus started moving again, although for just a moment.

"I hope we get out of here soon." Tekken muttered, gazing out the window of the bus with a feeling of anxiety.

"Yeah." Falcom said again, turning back to her phone.

It got quiet, the low hum of the bus's engine accompanying all the eager passengers in their one, tense period of lingering hope. Would they make it in time, before the docks closed?

Falcom swallowed her anxiety with a nonexistent pain in her throat. At least she was doing better than Nathan was.

* * *

" _Enfield one, Hawkeye, BRA Two-Four-Three for Eighty at Nine-Thousand, Hot."_

The static-laced voice of the AWACS filled the men above Asia with a sense of dread.

"Hawkeye, repeat your last, over." The squadron leader of Enfield, callsign Boomer, was getting nervous. Their flight of four F/A-18 multirole fighters were getting within a hundred kilometers of Hong Kong Island, well within the patrol radius for both People's Liberation Army Air Force CAP planes and the alien air supremacy jets that were reported to be in the area. Both the PLAAF and the enemy would be on high alert, and would most likely fire on anyone who had not preemptively been confirmed to be friendly.

The blue waters of the South China Sea glimmered in the morning light, the sun's rays reflecting off the visible waves and giving it an even deeper blue hue. The few clouds in the mostly clear sky reflected the sunlight with vigor, shining from below white like flashlights to the face.

" _They're not responding to our hails. They're not Chinese or Filipino, and the only other country we suspect to be operating this close to land would be from Planeptune."_

"Fuck." He swore to himself, but his word was lost to himself in his cockpit.

" _Tail group at 10000, hot. We've pinged them and they're J-11's._ "

Chinese. Would they know that he was friendly?

All long range communication was wiped off the map for over a month, ever since the second electronic blackout hit Asia. The carrier strike group had departed from Japan for over a week when it struck them, leaving the naval vessels in the dark. Only now that they had been able to reach short range communication with the Pinoy did they know that they were not alone in the desolation.

Occupied with a monster infestation on an unprecedented scale, there was not much the island nation could do for the carrier group aside from give them directions. After a short briefing, they vowed to return to Luzon once they had finished what they came to do in the South China Sea.

But there was always a chance that some may not make it back, and a shiver ran down Boomer's back as the AWACS read off the amount of targets between then and Hong Kong.

Almost a dozen planes total, with the Chinese only counting for four.

" _Enfield Two, requesting permission to attack._ "

"Enfield Two, negative." Boomer ordered. "We're going in together. Flight," He continued, a bead of sweat inching around his eye and down his cheek. "Push boom to 700 knots, get set to engage."

A chorus of " _Copy_ "s emerged from his moment of silence. The sound of the sound barrier being broken by four airplanes was heard by no one but themselves and the wind.

They were getting within 60 kilometers of the enemy- within missile range but not close enogh to guarantee a kill.

55 kilometers.

"Hold fire."

50\. The seconds were ticking away.

"Hold fire."

Each of the pilots held their thumbs above the top of their flight stick. Their fingers were itching to let loose.

" _Missile launch!"_ One of his wingmen shouted into his radio.

" _Six of them!_ " Another noted with urgency.

"Alright, Fox Three!" Boomer called out, pressing down firmly with his thumb.

" _Fox Three!_ "

" _Fox Three!"_

"Flight, engage defensive- I'm flying bearing 120, up high!" He called out his bearing, knowing that by flying horizontal to the enemy missile's flight path, his chances of evasion would drastically increase. While doing so, he switched on his electronic countermeasures- it would take some some for it to boot up, but by doing so he could spoof the missile without need for chaff.

" _Fox Three!_ "

The weight of G-forces on Boomer's chest almost forced him to lose his lunch, and when he looked over his left shoulder he saw his white contrails streaking behind him in a curve, almost like a cape.

" _Fuck! Tally bandit at 60, I think I spotted two- I'm pinging them now-"_ The wingman slew his radar onto the first plane and locked on briefly. " _They're J-11's!"_

"Thanks for the heads up…" Boomer responded with his teeth grit tightly.

The first enemy missile was getting within ten kilometers. This was bad. It was still on target, and now was the time to start dumping chaff.

Boomer slammed on his physical countermeasures, dumping load after load of metal shrapnel in an effort that the enemy radar lock would catch onto the metal and not on him.

With valuable seconds ticking down one after another, Boomer rolled to have his nose down and attempt to reverse his direction. The force of his plane screaming towards the ocean pushed his blood into his head, making him see red. The engines roared as he pushed on his throttle with all his might, afterburners lighting up and leaving behind a trail of grey smoke.

As the incoming projectile could be seen with the naked eye, Boomer held his breath. He did all that he could to drop contact with the damn thing, but it didn't seem like anything was going to work at all.

With his speed nearing mach two, Boomer turned his aircraft through the air to face the group of bandits that fired the missile at him. As the distance was closing to under twenty kilometers, his ECM took hold.

The bead of death following the leader of Enfield spun out of control. The lock was lost, and as it desperately tried to regain a lock, it flailed towards the nearest clump of chaff before running out of energy. With that depleted, it's trail of smoke sputtered out and it glided towards the ocean, out of harm's way.

 **Missile launch, 9 o'clock low!**

His HUD beeped in alarm, the mockingly calm female AI chirping the direction of his demise.

"Fuckin'!" Boomer swore again, this time pulling hard on the flight stick. He had to keep the momentum from his dive and knock out the enemy before he went down.

His wingmen and the enemy entered a furball, the illusion of safety brought on by Beyond Visual Range combat eviscerated in a ball of fire as a bandit was shot down by Enfield 3's AIM-9M.

" _Scratch one bandit!_ "

With the threat of death still keen on his mind, Boomer dumped flares to try and spoof the heat seeking missile on his tail. Turning aggressively and squeezing him against his seat even further, the pilot doggedly evaded the missile as it ran out of energy from the rapid, sudden turns made by the man.

Unfortunately for the fighter that tried to take him down, Boomer was both in cannon range and in a position to take him down.

Training his crosshairs over the enemy, Boomer squeezed the trigger.

A burst of powerful chaingun ammunition glided through the air, seeking a target. Unfortunately, the fighter was too far away for the gun to be accurate, and lagged harmlessly behind the enemy.

"Come on, damn you!" He muttered with the back of his helmet pressed against the rear of his seat. Boomer let down his flaps in an effort to slow down and gain a more efficient turn speed, but the added maneuverability caught him off guard as a round of turbulence shook him up and down in his chair.

" _Enfield one, missile to your direct six! Eject, Eject!"_

What?

Boomer shot his head back like a gun, panicking. There it was, streaking like a shooting star across the blue horizon. Without hesitation, the sneaky PL-12 Air-to-Air missile detonated above the F/A-18's twin engines, taking them both out in a violent fireball.

As the plane was thrown out of his control and towards the water, Boomer screamed twice and reached to eject as fast as he could.

A Chinese Shenyang J-11 blew past the American jet, mocking him for his lack of caution.

"Enfield one to Hawkeye, I've been hit! The Chinese are hostile, I repeat-"

His fuel tank exploded, with his wings flying off to his left and right and his nose being flung off into the sun. Boomer's seat was shook back and forth as it erupted in flame, instantly killing the pilot and charring everything that was left.

The smoke trailed behind the airplane as it slowly but surely arched down, down, down into the uncaring waves of the South China Sea.


	21. 21

It's hard to breathe. Each time I inhale it's like every muscle of my body has been numbed. I feel like I've been sore for a long, long time.

Feelings are soft, coming and going like flutters of snow, and I don't know why I was crying anymore.

I think it's the effect of a tranquilizer, or maybe some equivalent that keeps me submissive.

It was a pretty strong dose, too. Drugged, I couldn't fight them as they dragged me into the rain. No tents, no nothing. My drenched hair stuck to my scalp. My clothes felt like dead weight.

Needles, maybe more sedatives, maybe some measurements, maybe pictures.

After what I can only assume was a processing sequence, I've been tossed like an object onto the bare metal bed of some featureless black van. My clothes are still soaked through from the rain, and despite how I can't feel anything and that I can't move my body, I think it's nice to be alone.

I might as well be alone.

Alone with my thoughts.

Alone.

Completely, utterly, totally, conclusively alone. Here in these forsaken plains, here in these empty streets. Everyone wants me dead.

Back home, there's nothing. No parents to greet me. No friends left, no home left, no nothing.

Is this… is this why Owen died?

He came back to tease me, tickle my thoughts before disappearing in a flash. I don't remember what he looked like before. I don't remember what I look like anymore.

I remember my town, though. A shimmer of something sparks in my heart, a tinge of longing, a glimpse of love and a wish to come home, to feel those feelings and see what might as well have been perfection.

I think some more and I can remember the monsters, the bodies slamming against windows and skin shredded on broken glass.

I don't want to remember any more.

* * *

"Lady Black Heart?" A Basilicom official leapt out from the middle of the hallway as Noire stormed past her with a purpose.

Her sudden appearance was beyond troubling for the young lady, who stumbled forwards in an attempt to catch up to her CPU.

After all, wasn't she supposed to be in the other dimension? Something big had to happen to bring her here. And in such a hurry, too...

"Are you a-alright?" She stammered, catching her breath.

Noire huffed in annoyance, wanting to cross her arms but couldn't, not with a filthy duffle bag in her arms and an unchanging frown on her face.

"Fine, I'm fine," The Goddess of Lastation pushed open a door with her leg, then begun marching up a set of stairs. With one of the walls made of a spotlessly clear glass, the scale of Lastation's skyline swung into view.

The height at which they were at was unsettling for the official, but negligible for the CPU. "I have places to be, so please don't get in my way!"

"Oh…" The woman slowed. With sagging arms she slowed to a standstill, left behind on the stairs.

Noire continued to push up the stairs without looking back.

Where was she going? The official wondered, the click-clack of her Goddess's shoes flooding her imagination with dozens of insane theories. There was no reason for her to be back so soon.

 _I hope everything's alright…_

* * *

Peace at last.

The double doors leading into Noire's workspace slammed shut behind her, the powerful collision reverberating through the empty hall.

With a depraved sigh, Noire collapsed against those doors. Bright sunlight flickered off the colors of the ornately decorated glass wall across from her, a streak of red blinding Noire whenever she tried to open her eyes.

With so much stacked against her, and so much waiting for her to do, the CPU let her eyes stay closed. It was the easier option, after all.

Minutes passed like hours, each second filled to the brim with a dozen thoughts, each weighing more than the last. Choices, decisions to ruin and move worlds.

Thinking grew tiring to the point of exhaustion, painful to the point of degradation.

Noire's knees buckled, and with a shallow gasp, the CPU took a step away from the doors.

Her shoes clacked against the floor, and the sound echoed across archaic bookshelves, enough desks to fit a classroom and the ceiling chandelier.

The one desk in the center of the room called her name. Seeing no one else to answer the call, the Goddess trudged to the chair, it's mahogany gleam doing no wonders for her mind.

Noire thrust the bag atop the table, and it landed with a pitiful thump. It's contents, filled to the brim with valuable information from Earth, peeked through a hole in the top that she didn't zip up completely.

Looking up with her pigtails feeling the sway of her home world, Noire saw nothing but the glimmering chandelier.

Blanc was on Earth.

Vert was probably shut up in her room.

Noire didn't want to think of what Neptune was doing.

Kei was probably busy.

And Uni was gone.

Black Heart looked down at her papers, Something stirring in her chest.

All the people she enjoyed being around. All the people that she wanted to call a friend.

Lonely Heart stared into the papers that would doom a nation, then at the laptop on her desk. Beside it was a telephone.

She could call Neptune. She could call Blanc. She came here to do both, but that was just when she was angry and her thoughts were cloudy

Seeing no alternative, she ran and ran and ran, seeing no alternative, Noire came here to make the obvious choice.

Now, with the weight of lives on her chest, the weight of history on on shoulders and the masks of a dozen fakes on her face, Noire felt something in her chest, in her stomach gurgling like butterflies and bubbling like blood.

A pop.

The phone exploded with a shrill shout of angst, then calmed. Noire closed her eyes.

It screamed once more, and she knew she wasn't dreaming. This was a nightmare.

The pit in her stomach grew with each one of her fingers that curled around the telephone. It buzzed in her hand, and the CPU breathed.

She picked it up with a click, and, after stretching her head up and around to ground herself in reality, brought it to her ear.

No voices.

"Hello?" She said out loud, her lower lip pushing into her upper one with a tinge of worry. "Make this quick, I-I'm busy."

She had stuttered, ruining her image. Noire scolded herself mentally, withholding a curse.

"Lady Black Heart?" The speaker asked, more scared of the next sentence than Noire herself.

The CPU adjusted her back, standing up straight and fidgeting with her hair, making sure she was spotless.

"Speaking." She puffed out her chest, confidence running on fumes.

"We have a very important individual in custody who you must deal with." The speaker said as a matter of fact. "Would you like us to bring him up… or would you rather come down to the Basilicom cell block?"

Noire sighed with grit teeth, pressure building in her chest like a steaming kettle. This, this wouldn't do at all.

"Can this wait?" The Goddess of Lastation spat. "I'm busy."

 _Can I get some time to myself, just five minutes, just five, please?!_ She wanted to scream.

The voice on the opposite end paused, most likely covering the microphone with a palm. Noire breathed.

After a moment, sound flowed into the CPU's impatient ear.

"That cannot happen. There's too much at stake. I'll explain things when we get to you. We are coming up now, you need to be ready in a minute."

The phone clicked, a passive-aggressive static greeting Noire as a scowl curled onto her lips.

She was the Console Patron Unit of Lastation.

She was the leader. She was the Goddess, worshipped and revered by all.

Why, all of a sudden, was she nothing more than just another piece in the puzzle? Her heart lurched, lips clenched.

The phone clattered painfully on it's receiver when it was forced down without a care.

Decisions.

Decisions to shape history. Would she call? Should she call? She was obligated to call. Neptune was her ally, after all. But Vert was doing what she believed was right. What Uni believed was right.

Was it right?

Noire shook her head, eyes squeezed shut.

Decisions could wait. She had time. She wasn't procrastinating… she had an excuse. Yeah. An excuse. Now she had to attend to something. Yeah. That's right. Not procrastinating.

The door was swung open with a click, a gust of Basilicom air flooding in.

Escorted by two armed guards, someone with a black bag over their head squirmed as he fell to the ground, struggling to keep himself from smashing his face into the ground with a pair of bound hands.

"Lady Black Heart." A woman stepped out from the hall, hands behind her back.

"I'm here. Can't you see me? What's this? Why is this so important?" Noire stepped forwards, her shoes clicking against the polished floor. With a wave of her hand, Noire frowned. "Why is his face covered?"

"My Lady," The woman pushed a strain of white hair from her exposed eye. Lid, one of Lastation's generals, sighed. "We have administered type two sedatives, if you remove that hood the poison will kill him. Please don't touch it."

"What? Why would you do that?"

Lid kneeled behind the boy, holding up a syringe of an antidote. After swiftly puncturing the skin and injecting it's clear fluid, the general stepped back.

"In case Purple Heart ambushed us on the way here. We can't have him fall into their hands."

"Alright." Noire huffed, placing her hands on her hip. "You've told me like a million things but explained nothing. This is getting on my nerves… can you stop answering so vaguely?"

Lid held back a smirk, then nodded.

"Long story short, last night we tracked your sister to what we believe was a terrorist hideout. This was the only person there alive."

Noire flinched at the mention of her sister. "You didn't hurt Uni, right? Tell me you didn't touch my sister!"

"We didn't, no." Lid calmly raised her palms in surrender. "Planeptune stuck at an international train, probably to capture this fellow." Both Noire and Lid glanced down at the person on the ground. "Black Sister interjected before Purple Heart could capture him. They fought on Lastation soil, my Lady."

Noire exhaled through her mouth, arms crossed and mind heavy. She knew what that meant.

"And where's Uni now?" She looked up, snappily asking Lid.

"We don't know," The General exclaimed, exasperated. "Probably somewhere in the countryside by now. We tracked her to him." Lid looked Noire in the eye.

"You have custody over him now. We did our cross referencing. There's no doubt in my mind that this is Nathan Kiowa, the same person that subverted Planeptune's power and hosted the _RFA_ program." A grim frown grew across Lid's face. "If I were you I'd hand him over to Purple Heart."

"We do that and he'll die." Noire muttered, reaching an arm for the edge of the hood. "May I?"

Lid nodded, and Noire removed the hood, letting it down on the ground.

With drowsy eyes fluttering to life, Nathan Kiowa coughed on all fours.

"I'll take my leave. Dial my number once you've made a decision." Lid nodded firmly. "Lastation stands by your word, my Lady."

With a wave of her hand, the white haired General led the two guards out the door. Before she closed the door behind her, Lid looked back.

The boy was on his knees, wrists bound. He wasn't angry. He showed no sign of remorse. Nothing. Just… emptiness.

Lid was in no position to influence her CPUs decisions. With that, she turned and left the room for good, door clicking shut behind her.

* * *

Noire, with her arms around her back, held a curious, catlike expression on her face as she circled the captive.

She came to a stop with a hunched back, frowning at Nathan.

The Goddess of Lastation cleared her throat.

"I've heard some stories about you." She paused, expecting a reply. "You're from Earth. You can make good decisions, right? What do you think I should do? Hand you over and preserve the peace we have here? Or keep you alive. That will risk my nation's safety."

Nathan opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again. Things were closing in on him. Of course she was going to hand him over. Those CPUs were all allies, with the exception of Vert, right?

"Lastation takes priority." She stated, standing up straight. "But Gamindustri is another story. I don't see myself as a dictator, and I think I'm coming to a conclusion here. I want your feedback."

Nathan sighed, indifferent.

"I…" She started, not quite sure where to begin.

Not quite sure if she should speak to him at all. She was the CPU. She could make her own decisions. But this time, maybe other times too, maybe she could ask for help. At least when everything was stacked against her.

Swallowing a fear she didn't know she was holding down, she continued, voice fragile.

"I've got to make a choice." She paused, looking at Nathan, who stared back with the eyes of a child. "I don't know if you know who Vert is or not, but she's in charge of Leanbox. She made a choice, a choice to side with Earth. With you, against us."

Noire stepped back and averted her gaze, hands on her hips.

"I've…" Noire slowed, thinking back.

Back to when she killed the man on the highway, so long ago. He died protecting that child.

She thought back to the Battle of Boston, the people at the harbor trying to get away on boats in vain.

Noire saw the eyes of the man at the Boston Common, gift in his hands, and the explosion that came to her in an instant.

She remembered all those she doomed to starvation, trapped in cities across the world, the portals that opened and the EMPs she authorized. The endless snow, piled up cars and the people that once drove them.

She thought of her sister, her sister and all that she did. Her sister who made a choice.

"I've learned a lot about you and your people. You're people." She nodded almost too firmly, feeling a little embarrassed. "And I've done some terrible things. I'm not asking for forgiveness… I just want to make the right choice."

Nathan shivered, but it wasn't cold.

"I can't turn in Vert. I can't oppose her, I can't…" Noire felt her eyes get foggy, her lips quivering and her chest pulsating as if this were her first kiss. "I can't keep fighting, not when my enemies are my friends. Not when I've seen desperate people killed by people who don't even know the man they've shot."

"It's not right." Noire stressed, taking another step back.

"You can do right." Nathan spoke for the first time, vision a little hazy and muscles tense. "Maybe not by those who are gone, but by those who are to die."

Noire sighed, running hand after hand through her pigtails in a vain effort to calm down.

"I want to believe you're right." Noire said with her eyes trained away from the captive, close to tears. "I want to believe that you are right." Noire reaffirmed, steadying herself.

"It's just hard, hard when everything is gone. We're never going back to the way it was before. Me, Neptune, Vert and Blanc, we were friends." Noire's tongue flicked on the word, feeling utterly ruined for not realizing it sooner, and relishing the feeling when she had the chance.

"We can never be friends. I can never have friends. I blew it the moment I agreed with that purple, pudding-filled sloth of a bitch!"

"Noire, easy, easy…" Nathan tried to calm her down. "You didn't blow anything. You can still have friends. You can go back. I want nothing but to go back."

"Nothing but to go back… that's something you would say. Now everything is ruined." Noire spun around, glaring at the boy. "You can't go back! You can't!"

"We can move on." Nathan nodded, feeling desperate. He felt like he was speaking to himself rather than a CPU. "Make a better tomorrow with the choices we make today. We can start here, we can start by forgiving."

"Forgiving…" Noire let the word roll off her tongue. "Can the dead forgive?"

Nathan looked down at his bound up hands, thinking of something to say.

"There will only be more dead if we can't forgive. It's hard to let down your guns. I know this firsthand." Nathan pleaded. "I lost my mother. I lost my best friend today. I don't want anyone else to have to die. Let the cycle end with us."

"I…" The Goddess of Lastation frowned, scrambling for words. He was right. But she didn't want to agree with him. He was the enemy…

"Let's start by making a stand against Neptune. Me, you, Vert and Uni. That's your sister, right? I'll bet a million bucks that she had this talk with herself. But you, you have me here to help you."

Nathan paused, letting Noire think. "This could've been a much harder choice to make, right? If I weren't here I'd bet that you might've sided with Neptune. But you don't have to. You can make the right choice."

"The right choice…" Noire muttered.

"I can call Vert." Nathan offered, thinking of her smile. He felt empty, bargaining with Noire. "Let's all call Neptune together. We can show her that we are united and strong."

Noire cracked a smile, but looked away in an attempt to hide it.

"What?" Nathan murmured, his voice carrying far in the open room.

The CPU held back a sad chuckle, crossing her arms. "If only it were that easy."

Nathan was puzzled. As Noire gazing out the window, towards the setting sun that had begun to break through the thick clouds painted red, the boy struggled to his feet, using a bookshelf for support.

"What?" Nathan said, worried but unafraid.

Noire weakly smiled at Nathan, half her face illuminated by the peeking sun.

"Neptune has her Kyanite now." She announces feebly. "With shares through the roof… there's nothing left to stop her."

"What?" Nathan exclaimed, face twisting and turning. "You can't… fight or whatever?"

"No!" Noire swiftly replied, still taunting him with a smile. "Not with that power."

Nathan looked down. He knew what Kyanite was. Some sort of Earth mineral that increased shares or something like that. But it made a CPU powerful? He guessed that made sense.

"There's always a way." Nathan stated. Noire shrugged, stepping towards her desk. With her mind left without a second option, she would rather be a part of the winning side than on the right side of history.

"If she won't die in the flesh, then, well," He paused, thinking of the right words.

Noire looked back at Nathan, hand hovering above her phone.

"We kill her mind."

* * *

"Sis, please!"

Nepgear exclaimed, hand extended into Planeptune's night sky. Standing with tears streaming down her face, the sister of Gamindustri's most powerful Goddess has done everything in her limited power to keep Purple Heart from disappearing into the night.

"Please, oh my goodness…" She paused, sniffling. "Think about what you're doing!"

"I have." Purple Heart, floating a dozen feet from the Basilicom's railing with eyes of fire, looked down at the tower's massive, slanted slope, then back up at her sister.

"It's been an hour since my ultimatum was due."

"You only gave them minutes to accept… Neptune, please! You're not in your right mind!"

Purple Heart grimaced, waging a war in her mind.

"They want to insult us by harboring criminals and terrorists." She waved her sword down, cutting the air with its slick movement. "We cannot accept that!"

"Neptune…"

"I won't let them insult Planeptune. I won't let them insult you."

Purple Heart turned in the air, then shot away into the stars.

With tears in her eyes, Nepgear felt defeated. She wanted to tell her sister so many things, but she wouldn't listen! She would never listen.

Nepgear looked down at the street. Cars and buses, people and lights, they all flickered like ants.

The sister sighed as her tears fell down like rain.

* * *

 ** _That's the first._**

Stocker kneeled low, deep in a cave.

At his feet was a red crystal no larger than his palm. His eyes were stained a fiery red with grey bags hanging like a shroud underneath them.

With a thoughtless extension of his arm, he scooped his fingers around the gem, lifting it up the ground and feeling its energy radiating within his eyes.

 ** _We are running out of time… Let's hope we're not too late._**


	22. Good Intentions

My hands are folded.

I'm sitting on a chair, a mere handful of feet behind Noire.

My breathing is quiet and methodical in an attempt to not make a sound. I know I'm waiting on Neptune to act, acting to force Noire's hand. But I try not to think about that and look up at the ceiling far, far away. Feels ominous.

The Basilicom chamber is enormous for what it's supposed to be, as it is just an office for Noire and all. I sit in awe, despite the painful throbbing in my heart, reminiscent of feelings coming and going like pollen.

Noire is slumped over her desk, not a word exchanged between us as she rummages through papers, stacking folders then turning to click keys on a keyboard. Her laptop is abuzz with words, most likely a messaging service.

I look back down at my hands. My chest feels heavy, and I distract myself by picking out the dirt beneath my nails. I rub the back of my neck for a moment, then shift silently on the chair, my legs feeling like foreign appendages for just a moment. All compulsory movements, all innately designed to distract me from my thoughts.

The darkness seeps in around corners and between crevices of pages and shelves, and the few glimmers of sunshine on the horizon have been swallowed up by the clouds, all of it foreboding and black.

The lights of millions upon millions of windows and lamps sparkle in rows and lanes, the night life of the city seamlessly replacing that of the day. I can almost hear the sounds of engines and dull chatter in my mind.

It's been twenty minutes since Neptune's ultimatum was due, and it doesn't look like there has been any fighting so far. I'm sure Noire contemplated a preemptive strike, but I'm glad she's holding off. There's a chance for continuing peace, however slim.

My gut aches, churning and twisting like a crunching ball of lettuce.

I brought this upon them. My mere presence comes with the threat of thousands dead. If only I had been killed at that school, if only I had been there for Owen, if only I had done so much more.

My hands quiver, and I feel my eyelids gain weight like mad.

I don't want to think about it, about the loss of everyone I know, the loss of humanity's safety, the loss of Gamindustri's safety, the loss of life and the loss of love and the loss of friends the loss of-

 _Fuck!_

"Hello?" Noire groans in annoyance, trying to get my attention. "You still in there, human?"

 _Human._

The word settles in as the chair under my body squeaks with protest, my hands pushing on my knees to help myself to face her.

"Yeah," I spit, then wipe my mouth with a sleeve. "I'm here, sorry."

Noire turns back to her desk, thinks for a second, then sighs.

"Neptune is so infuriating sometimes…" She mutters, nervously pinching at the edges of her dress.

I hold my breath, curious and attentive.

"She's sent me a message… through PM, not officially." Her voice trails off, and she slides a pad over to the corner of her desk, obviously contemplating whether she will show me or not. "In essence, she isn't going to attack, but she says it really subtly."

"Can I take a look?" I whisper, starting to edge out of my seat.

"No!" She stomps, then realizes what she did. With a wave of her hand, she sighs as if I weren't worth her time. "No, just because I said so. It's not that it's… personal or anything."

She shudders, her black tails falling loose from her shoulders and down her front. Noire pushes a strand out from her eye and pushes her lips together.

I stare at her with a critical eye. She huffs and turns back to her desk.

"Now what?" She mutters, voice raising in a crescendo with vigor. "We trust her word and pretend none of this ever happened? Move on and… what? Or do we prepare, we-"

"Jeez, cool it!" My words escape my mouth like a typhoon, blowing her away. "We do what we have to do. Don't stress out about it. Really. I've had enough of your rambling in all honesty. Just… be confident, yeah?"

"I don't need you of all people to tell me that!" Noire's face burns red. "I'm perfectly capable of making my own choices."

"And I'm glad."

She crosses her arms, looking down at her desk. We sit in silence for a minute, watching as the world's faint glow streams inside, painting their artificial lights across the corners of shelves and sparkling on the legs of tables.

My knuckles hurt, and I rub my hands together. After another moment of mental procrastination, I look up and see Noire.

Noire turns in her chair, mouth ajar to speak. She says nothing and averts her gaze to the floor. Mind blank and stirring with a tremendous weight. The Goddess sighs with a scowl, adjusting her frown then looks at me with futility sprawling across her red eyes.

Finally, her mind trembles, turning thoughts to words on the cusp of her lips.

"I'm not sure how to proceed."

She's scared, confidence dimming, alone. She doesn't want to admit she wants help, she doesn't even try to hide it, her pity clearer than caribbean waters. I might as well provoke her.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know… I want to call your people, I want to make things right with Uni, I want to make everything okay- for Lastation, for everyone! I just don't know anything anymore. It's all so weird, so…" Her eyes scrunch up, churning and turning. She stops humming, releasing her anger and confusion with an aggressive sigh.

"You've got a lot of weight on your shoulders." I start, thinking of what needs to be said. "I can't say that I know what it's like to have so much riding on your actions, and I don't know anyone in my world who has ever been in such a situation as unique as yours." I lie. "But that doesn't mean that people in your world have just abandoned you."

"You want me to ask for help? From who, exactly? My sister? My… friends?"

I raise an eyebrow, knowing one answer in a sea of uncertainty..

"What…" She glances at the floor for a split second. "Vert! I can ask her, right? She's contacted your people, maybe we could help each other so it doesn't seem like I'm just asking for a free ride and all."

She catches her breath, raising a guilty smile on her face.

"Then we can start over, all of us."

"You've got it." I smile weakly. If things were that easy, I'd cry.

"But then we'll have to deal with Neptune… and I'll have to find Uni… and then we'll have to… _tsk_!" She waves a hand, getting excited. "We'll take it as it comes. Yeah?"

She looks at me as if I were going to give her some sort of approval, as if I held all the right answers. As if.

"Yeah." I nod.

The Goddess of Lastation takes a deep breath, composing herself. She looks at me again, this time without the same look as just a moment ago.

"Okay. I'll take care of what needs to happen." She says, and I blink. "We'll have dinner in an hour. You're…" Noire pauses, looking at my dirty shoes. "You're free to go if you want. I'm no Neptune…"

 _Yeah. Yeah. Keep talking._

My fists are tight. My face is steady, and I don't know how to feel.

"I'm free to go…" I mutter under my breath. My legs don't want to stand up, but I pull myself to my feet anyways. It's painful. "Yeah."

"Yeah…" Noire looks away, feeling awkward. I don't blame her.

I look at the tall double doors down the aisle. Between the shelves and the light and the distance and Noire is nothing, nothing but me.

On my back I wear my blue jacket, covered in spots of mud and with all it's fraying edges, all the days water resistance are coming to an end. My jeans, once a solid denim color, now bears the mark of wear on the knees, a whitish hue scribbled on through natural means.

The holster on my right hip is empty, a loose strap swinging back and forth with each step.

Noire looks at the back of my head as I walk to the door, hearing nothing.

The door is pushed open with a deep, guttural groan, the tremendous double doors marking my departure with a cry.

I see people staring at me, some employees, some visitors, some guards and nobody. Their faces are nothing as I look straight.

As the rhythm of my feet on the Basilicom halls become steady like a beat, I wonder if there is anything left for me.

* * *

It's not that dark outside, and it's a strange feeling to finally be at peace. Peace as in, I'm not scared that I'll get arrested on sight anymore. I'm not afraid that things will go wrong in an instant and I'll have to run.

It's like I'm taking a trip downtown for a soda or something, except that I have neither money nor friends with me.

 _Fuck_.

I blink, and when I open my eyes a dozen nameless storefronts pass me by, handfuls of couples and families laughing and smiling, all of them enjoying their world as nothing happens.

Lamp posts come and go like a blur as I wander with no destination. Colors, lots of colors.

Walking, walking where?

And then it's dark. Darker than night, darker than streetlight, darker than life. How long have I been out here?

No shops are in sight, and the sidewalk is cracking. The air smells like old metal and car exhaust, and the buildings around me are empty and without light.

I feel like I'm going to be sick.

 _I… I ought to get back to the Basilicom._

I turn around on my heels only to see the same buildings and streets over and over and over and I feel sick. A headache, a desire to just stop and skip this part of life because I just _don't get it anymore_.

My lips tighten, my hands turn to fists and I'm confused. No directions, no people, I am lost.

If I want to go back I can retrace my steps. But who knows where that'll take me. I wasn't paying attention, for all I know that's the wrong way.

But, further down the street, I see a bus stop. A dimly lit sign with the outline of a bus is planted beside a bench. It's a quaint sight, and my chest feels lighter, like a cloud.

My legs take me to the bench and I sit. I have no choice other than to wait, even if it means I'm late to dinner or whatever. Dinner with CPUs can suck a fat cock in my opinion, I want none of that shit. Just. Just, I don't want it. I want to be alone or something, just myself and just-

 _Fuck!_

I bury my face in my hands, hunched over all pitiful-like. I don't care anymore. If I want to be sad and angry, let me! If I want to be free to just fucking sit and wait for a fucking bus, let me!

You can't tell me to do anything. Fucking captains and generals, I'm not a mother-fucking tool. Mom, I don't need to you to keep reminding me of jack shit. I don't want to think of you right now. Stop, really! You've always been a thorn in my side, a fucking dagger killjoy for everything.

And fuck! I'm done with orders. I'm done with responsibilities, I'm just going to-

"Get out of my head!" I snarl, throwing my hands to my sides as Owen looks at me funny.

Sitting on my right, he smirks like he always did.

"Damn, the fuck is wrong with you?" He asks, trying to tease me.

"I don't know anymore, man." I choke on my words, covering my eyes with a hand. I'm too ashamed to see him. "I'm seeing corpses talking to me, I've been surrounded by people who want me dead for the past week and I think I want to die…"

"Fuckin' hell," Owen playfully slaps me on my back. "Get your shit together. You're not crazy. You're here, and that's crazy. It's not you."

"Yeah, sure, and here I am, seeing you talk to me when you're dead again. You're fucking dead, Owen."

"Me? Dead?" He scoffs, resting an elbow on my shoulder. I don't mind, and it actually feels kinda nice. "I don't die."

I open my eyes, looking right at him. He looks back, a cocky grin on his face.

"They can't kill me. I can't kill myself. You know how many times I tried killing myself?" I don't say a word as I wipe my eyes. "Too many times. And after each one, I'd get scolded by this book asshole of Bitchstoire or something, I don't know anymore. But anyways, I'm done dying."

He waves a hand, teasing me. "Been there, done that."

"Okay." I breathe. Breathing makes things alright. I breathe, reminding myself I'm alive. "So if you're here, how did you find me? How did you get away from the soldiers?"

He smirks with a sigh. "It's easy. After weeks escaping from those assholes, you'd think that by now I'd be good at it, right? And besides, it's easy to find you. You're the only guy here without an agenda."

"An agenda?" I crack a faint smile. "I don't get it."

"You're the only person moping and all." He adjusts himself on the bench, looking up at where the stars would be if the clouds weren't there. "Like, people get that life isn't infinite unless you're one of those fucked up Goddesses and all. So what you gotta do," He jabs a finger into my chest. "is make an impact. It could be small, it could be big. Shit dude, you can do a whole lot if you just got off your sorry ass and did something."

"Sure…"

"Yeah man." He nudges my shoulder. "Do some good in this black regality bullshit. You're here."

"And why don't you do something?"

"Eh," He turns away for a moment, embarrassed. "I don't take my own advice. Like, I know you think I'm all cool and all." He takes a breath. "But I'm not. I'm the one with the bad grades, while you've got the determination to do it and shit."

He glances over his shoulder, worried.

"Listen, I gotta take off."

"I get you." I nod. "They're still looking for you?"

He scoffs, grinning like a madman. "Hell yeah. They're playin' with _fire_."

"Great, you broke something in the chemistry department?"

"Nah, this time I said that Hitler wasn't so bad of a guy in class."

I smile, straightening my back. "Fuckin' hell!"

"I'll be back, you hear?" He stands up, leaping off the bench. "Oh, and here,"

He pulls a pistol out of his back, probably tucked in his belt. It's the Beretta.

"This is yours. Thanks for letting me use it, it really came in handy."

He reaches over to me, thrusting it into my holster with a single hand before stepping back. He's confident, almost too confident. What's going on in his head?

The American flag on the grip is faded, and I think it could be close to peeling off.

"I'll be around," He pauses, glancing down the street once more. "And keep an eye out for people from Earth, I know two are here. I told you earlier, yeah?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Good. And it's great to see you again." He barks, pointing a finger at me.

"Likewise." I take a deep breath, and Owen starts running.

His legs slap the concrete as he fades to black, disappearing into an alley with the sound of a crinkling fence behind him. I wonder if any of this was real, but I know it had to be.

My hip feels heavy, and I look down at my pistol.

The strap is sealed over the gun, so I reach down and pull it off. Afterwards, I pull the weapon out of it's home and into my hands.

The weight of the cool metal feels nice in my palms, and I slowly slide the magazine out.

It's hard to tell for sure, but I think it's missing one round. That makes 14 bullets, if I recall correctly.

But I don't feel like it's the bullets that matter. And when I slip the slick metal back into its receptacle, I feel good again. It clicks with a resounding echo through the street, right up until I hear the growl of engines and see curtains of light.

The bus arrived, colored a solid black reminiscent of Lastation. The _tsss_ of the bus's brakes feels comforting to me, and as soon as the doors open wide for me, I step inside without a second thought.

* * *

"Oh geez, Vert! You're earlier than I had anticipated… sorry for the mess."

Noire, roused to her feet at the sight of the Goddess on her balcony, rushes to the door to let her in.

The balcony, separated from Noire's study by a wall of both ornate and clear glass, overlooks the center of Lastation. Vert looks behind her once more and smiles at the lights, then transforms back into her normal form with a blaze of white.

Unfazed, Noire pulls open the door.

"Come on, we don't have all night," She sing-says, then hobbles back over to her desk, less official as she feels she should be. A shudder runs down Vert's spine, a jittery feeling crawling over both of them. "I know we talked on your way here, but is there anything you need clarification on?"

"No, not really." Vert speaks warmly at her counterpart. "Though, it is nice to see you again."

"Likewise." Noire fumbles with her laptop for a moment, and on her command, a rather small projector-type object lowers from the ceiling and down to the ground. Convenient.

"That's going to be our camera. You said we needed one, right?"

"You've got it all set." Vert nods, a silent smile on her face. "I'm glad to see you as yourself again."

"W-what do you mean?" Noire raises her eyebrows, freezing in her tracks.

Vert says nothing, and turns towards the camera. "Let's just get this done so we can eat. You have an idea what you want to say, yes?"

The Goddess of Lastation takes a deep breath, then exhales in annoyance. "Hey! What did you think I was doing while you took your sweet time getting here? Twiddling my thumbs and gaming like Neptune? Or you?"

Vert blushes, remembering that she was in the middle of a game when Noire had called.

"Yeah, thought so." She huffed, stepping in front of the camera. After another deep breath, she waves in annoyance at Vert. "Is this good? Does my hair look alright, in your opinion?"

The CPU of Leanbox strides behind the camera and glances at it's screen. After nodding confidently, she speaks. "You're fine, just take one step back."

Noire takes a step back and clears her throat. With her arms at her sides, she feels good to be getting something off her mind.

"So I'll be sending this to one of their leaders as soon as we're done. If you want to restart, do let me know." Vert informs. "This isn't final unless you want it to be."

Noire takes a deep breath, straightening her twintails with a nervous hand.

"Let's just get this done."

* * *

"It has been said before that the only thing that we, as a nation, must fear is fear itself."

Jens Calliger, president of the United States of America, stood behind a podium. With a dozen cameras and a billion eyes on him, he resisted the urge to scratch his nose. With the return of the internet and communication as a whole, the world needed to know that the world's sole superpower was still strong and kicking.

What better way to begin this new age than with a speech?

"I think that it's time to stop looking at the past for advice. Sure, it's a good phrase and it was appropriate for its time." He paused, glancing at a cameraman. "But we need to adapt. I feel that now we need to change things, not as a country, but as a people."

"The only thing that we, as a people, one people, as one world, must fear, is more than just fear." He took a breath, allowing the cameras to roll in his verbal lapse. "The only thing that we must fear is the root of fear, the survival of it and the pain that fear brings. Of course that might seem silly to some people. But the root of all fear is what causes it. The survival of it is our inability to end it. And the pain it brings is what happens when we don't do what's right."

People in China, lucky ones huddled under flooded bridges and in desolate camps, were all glued to radios if they had them.

People of the United States, curled up around trash can fires and in refugee camps, cried at the sight of their president on television for the first time since 2016.

"Right now our fear comes with the enemy. Our enemy. Without a care they ruined us in their conquest to further their own violent agenda. That's when we failed to put an end to their survival and let their fear, their pain, consume us."

In France, people who had their towns and fields cut down by monsters felt that they were not alone in the fight.

People with a television ushered their neighbors into their homes, frantically telling others with working electronics that the signal was back on.

"We did things wrong. We let them scare us into thinking that they couldn't be killed. That they were supernatural beings that lived beyond our comprehension. All rumors, local ones and broader ones, they're all wrong. We know who they are, we know where they come from."

IF, sitting in her quarters inside of her command hovercraft, shifted in her seat. She received a call from one of her subordinates, and just had to tune in to the broadcast that was on. With a curious gaze, she kept watching, even if she wasn't supposed to.

"And once we save our country, and then our continent, and then our world, we will continue to fight until the end inevitably comes. For us or for them." With a renewed vigor, the president frowned. "We will accept nothing less than unconditional surrender from the machine of war, a deviation matched only by that of the axis of evil broken so long ago. Our resolve will match theirs, tenfold."

In an instant, President Calliger's name was called off screen. The man looked to his left as a member of the secret service walked to his ear, speaking something urgent before briskly stepping offstage.

And the President smiled. Grimly, reflective of the times that both his nation and his world was in, but a smile nonetheless.

He cleared his throat, deciding to go off script.

"I am pleased to announce a cessation of hostilities with two of our four invaders."

A wave of mixed emotions splashed over civilians, soldiers, people in cities and in the countryside. We're they just going to let those monsters get away with what they did to them?

"The United States will respect their decision to leave the conflict, and by extension, the territories of which they have ravaged."

The drums of revenge pounded in the hearts of millions, but Calliger couldn't hear any of it.

"Our attention, now more focused than ever, makes the pivot outwards. Not just with a rifle, but with an extended hand."

A round of applause met the president's final words. He nodded at the camera, then stepped down, walking off stage without a second thought.

He made the decision to accept that peace right there, on camera, in front of the entire world. He felt it was the right thing to do. After all, less fighting meant less loss, right?

But if America was going to stop fighting, would Russia, China, and everyone else follow? And if they didn't, what then? What would the world think of Jens?

The man who let murderers walk away.

The man who rebuilt a nation beside those who destroyed it.

A coward, accepting a peace that dishonored all those who were killed in anger. Their hearts, gone, never to see love. In their hearts, a need to avenge.

The President stepped off stage, knowing that he was in the minds of the world.

Then the signal cut.

* * *

One hour passed, and there was no signs as to where Nathan was.

Pacing up and down the length of the Basilicom dining room, Noire was starting to get concerned about the sanctity of this night. That is, if the boy would return at all.

He had every inclination to leave and do his own thing. There was nothing tying him down to be loyal or trusting towards Lastation, and after everything that Gamindustri did to harm him, it only made sense that he wouldn't like the dimension's CPUs.

Vert sat at a modern chair at a sleek, oval table. A handful of lanterns dangled from the ceiling, bathing the room with warm lighting and drawing glare on the few windows.

Noire sighed, placing her hands on her hips as she surveyed the table with unease. There wasn't a excess of food on the table, as they would only be feeding three, but the CPU spared no expense, knowing the importance of the people here.

Oranges, grapes and other bowls of fresh fruit dotted the ends of the table. A luxury, knowing the challenge of importing them. Trays of fried and grilled local foods lined the center, enough for a family to help themselves to seconds. Grasses and salads were accessible through tongs and large forks, with an assortment of dressings available as well.

Noire thought it would be good to present a bounty as a show of strength and prosperity for both the leader of another country and for who might as well be a representative for Earth.

The clock hanging on the wall struck seven o'clock, marking ten minutes past the deadline. The clock's antiquated bell rang tore apart the silence, and Noire rolled her shoulders.

"Okay. He's not coming." The Goddess of Lastation concluded, pulling out her chair.

"Let's not be hasty here," Vert raised her voice, stopping Noire in her tracks. "I don't think he'd miss out on this. After all, we are all working towards a common goal. It'd be… foolish, for a lack of a better word, if he were to miss out on this."

"Alright, alright! We'll wait." Noire resigned. "But only ten minutes. Okay? Ten minutes, the food will get too cold."

"Ten minutes." Vert nodded, smirking at her last comment. "That should be fine."

* * *

"And ten minutes are up!" Noire barked, gesturing at the clock. "He left. We don't have all night. For all we know, Neptune is going to stab us in the back with a spork. And I won't let that immature little blob get away with anything against Lastation."

Vert cleared her throat, feeling a bit rejected and betrayed. Not by Neptune or Noire, but Nathan. She came all this way, and he wouldn't give her the chance to see him? Or, at the least, work on foreign relations together? That might actually be a bit selfish, and not in the least bit considered normal, but hey! It was something, and there was nothing happening between them right now.

"Don't just think of your nation. Leanbox is also in danger here. Especially now that she has the resources to dispatch us all in an instant." Vert reached over to a bowl of strawberries, scooping a handful onto her plate with a ladle.

"So that just means that we need to get those stupid rocks, and fast." Noire picked up a fork and jabbed a banana in the side, pulling it back to her plate. "It's a good thing that now we're supposed to be on their good side."

"But do you think that they will trust our word?" The Goddess of Leanbox used a fork to hold a strawberry down as she started to cut it into slices with a knife. "Just saying that we don't want to fight doesn't meant that our word means anything. We should try and trade with them for the resource as opposed to excavating it ourselves. And even then, we need to make it seem inconspicuous."

Noire bit down on the side of a banana with an audible crunch. After chewing and swallowing her bite of the fruit, she continued. "That doesn't seem convenient at all. I think we should focus on trying to communicate with them and tell them what's happening over in Gamindustri." The CPU then leaned across the table, using a pair of tongs to place a single grape onto her plate.

"That's not a bad idea." Vert agreed with nod of the head, then tried to eat one of the strawberry slices, only to realize that they still had seeds on the sides. "One moment… do you happen to have a strawberry seeder?"

"Oh!" Noire rolled her eyes at herself. "I totally forgot about that. Here." The Goddess handed an elaborate metal device across the table, into Vert's hands.

"Thank you." Vert used the machine to remove the seeds of the strawberry, then took a bite. "Now, where was I? Oh, right. We definitely should earn their trust by communicating with them, getting on better terms, but we have to keep in mind that the more we tell them, the less we have to our advantage."

"That's true." Noire picked up an orange from a bowl and bit into it with another crunch, juices spilling everywhere. "There's a lot we can do now that we're not at war. Well, for the most part."

"Do you need a napkin?" Vert questioned, holding up a white cloth.

"Yes," Noire plucked the napkin out of Vert's hand, dabbing at her chin and fingers. "Thank you."

"The food is amazing, did you assemble this on your own?" Vert smiled as she reached for a bowl of cherries with a fork.

"Well," Lastation's CPU blushed at the compliment. "Yes, but Nepgear gave me the strawberries the last time I was in Planeptune."

Vert stifled a widening smile at the thought of the CPU candidate.

Noire raised an eyebrow at Vert's strange expression. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, just fine." Leanbox's Goddess had just cut off the stem from the cherry and was about to eat it when Noire crunched into the banana again.

The door to the dining room opened.

Nathan, despite seeing a great many strange things in his life, never thought he could laugh so strongly in all his days.

* * *

"So…" Noire was flushed red with embarrassment as she felt the chunks of banana peel settle in her stomach. In one hand was the banana and in the other was a strip of the peel. "You peel the banana like this?"

"You've got it." Nathan stood behind Noire, directing her fingers with his own. "Okay, now what you're going to want to do is start pulling. Not too hard, just enough to expose the fruit."

"Okay, okay, you can, like, stop crowding over me like this?" Nathan took a step back, and the CPU of Lastation frowned for a moment as the peel was not peeling. But then the banana split into pieces, flinging parts across the room as she accidentally applied way too much force.

"Damn it!" Noire snapped, flustered at yet another failed attempt.

The boy strode around the table, heading towards Vert, who was having trouble with an orange. Making sure not to slip on one of the many banana peels or banana mush piles, Nathan kneeled down to Vert's height.

The Goddess sighed then threw her head back, letting her golden hair drape down the sides of the chair.

"What's up?" Nathan smiled, gazing at her plate.

"This is harder than the final boss in, well, everything." She murmured in desperation. "At least there I can use a cheat code or a walkthrough."

"Alright." After analyzing the mess that Vert called an attempt at peeling an orange, Nathan pulled over a new one from the side. "Aside from inevitably becoming a waste of food, these oranges aren't the type that's easy to peel. Look."

The human gripped the fruit with both hands, then started to peel with one.

"Notice how only pieces are coming off, not whole chunks. So here you have to just keep at it, make sure your fingers are under its skin, and you'll be alright."

"Hmm…" Vert turned to her orange, then tried peeling it again. She didn't manage to make any progress, but Nathan saw an honest attempt. "Oh dear."

"Yeah. It happens." Nathan nodded, holding back an inconsiderate smile. "Just keep at it, you'll get the hang of it. Even when it gets all white and nasty, just peel that off as well. You're getting there." He took a breath, letting Vert keep trying only to fail and either stab the orange with too much force, getting juice everywhere, or peel too little and get nothing done.

Although she was happy to see Nathan again, there were other things on her mind. Things that had to be dealt with. Annoyances that would not be tolerated. Priorities had to be dealt with, first.

"This is frustrating…" Vert frowned, fingers sticky.

"I agree." Noire snarled under her breath, breaking another banana in half.

They looked up at each other, a spark in their eyes.

"Hey, guys?" Nathan started, getting to his feet. "You're either using too much force or too little. It's not a big deal. Eat something else, or uh…"

"Nate, please stay out of this." Vert stated with certainty. The Goddess of Lastation nodded, and Nathan's heart sank.

"Guys?"

Each of the Goddesses, sitting with reserved aggression in their chairs, both started glowing white. Marking the beginning of their transformation, both CPUs were not about to be bested by a mere fruit. Blinded by the intense light, Nathan cowered against the wall and covering his eyes with his arm.

He hoped that this wasn't going to be a long night, but deep down he knew it was.


	23. Hopeless Place

**AN:**

 **I'm _terribly_ sorry about the _terribly_ long wait, but this chapter didn't come easy to write. Coupled with testing, work, volunteering and stress, it's not easy for me to find time to write. If you want to keep in touch and have updates on whats going on- meaning spin-offs, side stories and questions on the lore, remember there's the discord server using the link in my profile. On a related note, kudos to Tainted for being the first Moderator!**

 **Thanks for reading, and I really hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"It's settled then."

Vert folded her hands together, elbows firmly on the table. With a passing glance over what remained of the leftovers, the Goddess of Leanbox eyed Noire. The air felt thick and stuffy.

"Unless Nathan has any objections, then yes," Lastation's CPU affirmed. "We're settled."

"Honestly I feel that I'll have an objection by the time we get out there." I say, pressing my lips together with unease. "Until then, yeah, we are settled." I look Vert in the eye, then Noire. "For better or for worse."

There really wasn't a better plan. We had to put an end to Neptune. If she found out that Leanbox was no longer on her side, she could attack vert. Not only that, but she could also invade Lastation at any moment; she had a justification for doing so.

As long as Purple Heart was in power, Lastation and Leanbox were in danger. Not to mention all the people back home who were locked in conflict. I wanted to say that these reasons helped to justify what we were about to do, but a part of me knew that this was wrong.

We were going to put an end to Neptune. Not physically, as apparently she was invincible now, but by kidnapping Nepgear. She still loved her sister, and her loss would make her furious. We hoped that we could convert Nepgear to our side, but that was only one possibility.

The plan would throw me out into Planeptune on my own. Vert would bring me to the border, and I'd snag a ride to the Basilicom. A Special Forces unit is supposed to take me the rest of the way, and I'd be tasked with going in and out of the Basilicom with the CPU Candidate. The 12 hour time period would conclude with that Special Forces team getting me the fuck out of there as fast as possible, as we don't know if I'd get spotted or not, nor do we know what type of response we should be expecting.

Lots of 'what ifs', lots of unknowns. Makes me feel uncomfortable just thinking of all the things that could go wrong. Not just that, but I'm also afraid that Nepgear would try and fight me off. What can I do if that happens, huh?

Vert and Noire can't come, as they feel that they're still on neutral terms with Planeptune. If a CPU of another nation were to assist with the kidnapping of a CPU Candidate, then that'd be war.

Since I'm not aligned to any country, my actions would just be that of sabotage on behalf of the US. Not something that would be kindly towards diplomacy, but then again, diplomacy seems off the table for now.

With so many things revolving around my actions, I'm sure that I should be feeling a tremendous weight on my chest, like a searing hot anxiety or something stupid like that. But I feel nothing so far, just my heart beating in my chest. I don't want to fail, not while people's lives are depending on me, not while Vert is looking out for me.

There's something moving in me. Not good feelings. A grab to my throat, a twist and churn to what I want, all of it, right in my stomach. I frown for a moment.

Why did this mission give me such a feeling, such finality? I'm concerned to the point of squinting from the weight, and there's so much emotion inside me that I almost want to cry.

I breathe, once, twice, and keep my head held high. They don't need to know.

I look to my side, and Vert's eyes are locked on Noire's. She looks determined, maybe even worried, with her hands making movements in the air and her head bobbing in agreement to what the other CPU has to say. I wonder what she's thinking about, holding my breath.

"Tomorrow will be a very busy day." Noire sighs, rubbing her stressed-out face with a palm. Suddenly she stands up, pushing her chair out with both hands and then taking strides towards the door.

"I am going to be spending this night locating my sister." The CPU asserts. "If I am not back by the deadline, then begin without me." She turns to me, standing in the doorway. She's tense, on the edge of aggression. "I'll have your gear delivered to your room, do you understand me?"

I pull myself out of my chair, and Vert does the same.

"Yeah, I got you."

Noire exhales deeply, vividly relieved.

"Good. Get sleep, don't stay up," Noire glances into the room, squinting at a clock. "...it's already midnight! I don't want to hear that things got postponed because someone was too tired!"

She's obviously upset, and I don't want to mess with her. I just nod, and she delivers one last line of departure. She's snappy about it, and I don't see her for the rest of the night.

Me and Vert leave the room in unison, taking the same route as Noire as the guest rooms are in the same direction. The lights flick off behind us, but the past is alight with memory. Good thoughts line the hall, but only for a moment. Vert's footsteps are nothing as my mind is lost in the present.

I think she said something to me, asked me how I was doing, asked me if I was anxious, asked me if I was hurting anywhere, but I heard none of it. My mind was on the future, and just the future.

Fine, nope, I'm good.

I didn't want her to feel offended, unappreciated, or upset.

But the constant nagging of the unknown, of the future, dictated my actions. I didn't want to take anything out on her, any of my feelings, for better or for worse. I was alone, now and tomorrow, up until I was gone. I wanted, I needed her to know this. I hoped she could hear without speech, read without words, see with nothing.

But she didn't. She was concerned. And I hated myself.

The finality spoke volumes, and I'm not even sure if my actions were my own.

We passed by my assigned room and I stopped. I sighed, pushing my lips together and placed a palm on the doorknob.

Vert. Her hands were on her hips alongside a face I never wanted to see. All of it. She stood, interrogating.

I nodded, spoke one or twice, then twisted my wrist.

She started getting aggressive.

"Nate, talk to me!"

"Now, what's gotten into you?"

"Please, tell me what's wrong!"

I closed the door behind me, pressing my back against the door. I was breathing heavily, adrenaline moving through my veins and had a pain running through my spine, my forehead, a throbbing hatred for myself and everyone close to me.

I was myself, and only myself.

"Nathan, open the door! Nathan?"

The room was dark. It was hard to make out shapes and corners in the overburdening darkness, but I saw a bed. A mirror. A dresser, with a cutesy-looking paper bag on top of it.

Vert's cries diminished as I drowned myself within the bedroom.

Oh, what the fuck…

The stars, hanging high in the sky, poked their faces in through wide windows across from me. Strange, I would have thought that Lastation would be too polluted for stars.

I lifted myself off the door, mindlessly locking it behind me. My shallow legs took me to the window and I looked outside.

It seemed fake. Too glossy, too much emphasis on the lights. The streets were too lively. After all this was midnight, right?

There was a remote on the low windowsill and I reached for it.

My arms pulled it in close, and I ran fingers over it's plastic buttons. Looking up, I pressed one.

The stars disappeared, flipping to a scene of a mountainside. Rocky, almost like the Grand Canyon. It was nighttime, and I saw a galaxy extend itself across the sky. The reflections of lonesome stars glittered across the window's glass, and a moon's glow painted the rug at my feet.

I pressed another button, and I saw rolling green plains. Dark as usual, but still glorious. This was atop a hill, and I could see for miles. I remember a scene like this in western Massachusetts, with the hills molding with the trees, cupping small towns and streams within their grasp. All in one image, all this beauty, all in one. Amazing, really.

The room was quiet. Silent to the point where I wanted to scream so, so hard. Scream my heart out and watch myself bleed.

I pressed the button one last time, and I saw myself at home. The streets of my town were beautiful at this time of year, with a gentle snowfall drifting between the branches of trees. My street was always covered in a thick canopy of branches, and even if it wasn't snowing, the wind would blow some loose snow to the ground, giving the impression it was snowing.

It was beautiful.

The streets were quiet. No cars, no people, no wind, no nothing. But it was my town, just like it was last year. No chaos, no monsters, no shooting, corpses or shouts.

I wanted to bash through the glass, break through and run home, run home and hug my mother. She'd be waiting for me, she always was. Right now, right now she's waiting. Probably worried sick.

"Nate."

Someone spoke.

Hoping Vert were there, I looked behind me. Owen stood with his hands in his pockets, lips pushed together in a seriousness I never expected from him.

"What do you want…" I murmur, turning back towards the street. I want to go home, away from whatever the fuck this Gamindustri was. It's a mindless emotion.

"I know everything that you're thinking. And that's not right."

"What do you know?" I snap, hands clutching the remote. "You're such a fucking asshole."

Ignoring my comment, he stepped to my side. He looked into the distance as well, nothing on his face. Nothing.

"You die now, die tomorrow and you might see your mom again. You'll let down everyone, though. You'll let down all the people back home. You'll let down your world. You'll let down _Vert_."

"Fuck off." I snarl.

He sighs, then looks into my eyes. I look back, close to tears.

"What do you think you're gaining by distancing yourself?"

"Fuck. Off."

Owen crosses his arms, frowning.

"Why don't you tell her you love her?"

"Fuck off! Alright? Fuck off!"

"You're not going to die tomorrow."

"I said, fuck off!"

"Even if you were, right now you're just make things worse. Make amends, go and do what I never did."

"Damn you. Fucking, damn you!"

"You want me to go that badly?" He asks innocently.

I don't say anything. He knows what I would say. He knows what I'm thinking.

"Distancing," Owen proclaims, stepping in front of me. He looks like he's standing in the middle of the street, and I feel jealous. "Is the worst, more painful thing you're ever going to experience."

Owen breathes, speaking with finality. "I know."

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing him to just disappear. I don't want to deal with this. I don't want to deal with any of it. I just want to sleep. Let me stay here, let me do what I want to do. No more bullshit.

I open my eyes, and he's gone. I blink, and the streets of Lastation greet me once more.

I'm cold, and the scent of my hometown is nothing.

I'm lost, but I know exactly where I am.

What now?

* * *

The waters surrounding Hong Kong released a constant, guttural roar as two Ticonderoga-Class Missile Cruisers tore through the waves.

The sun was blocked by a cloud of smoke, exhaust from a dozen launching Tomahawk missiles. Their target was one of the tunnel entrances in Kowloon, designated by local authorities in an effort to stem the opposing PPLA advance on Hong Kong Island.

With the return of international communications, a deal of disturbing news came to light about the conflict in Asia.

The People's Republic of China had been hit the hardest by the EMPs in the beginning of the conflict, thoroughly eliminating their chances of communication and an organized defence. Beijing was taken within a week and Xi Jinping had no choice but to surrender. Despite his best efforts, there was no realistic hope of organizing any counterattack at all.

Purple Heart had hastily set up a collaborative government in Shanghai to govern the occupied areas, which consisted of most of the coastline and the north. This new occupied China was managed by Planeptune, and many existing PLA units were organized into new army groups, called PPLA, or Planeptune People's Liberation Army.

Other occupational organizations were created, many with exceptionally long acronyms such as the PPLANAFMDAAMP, which, despite staunch resistance from Planeptune's high command, were overridden and created under the guidance of Purple Heart.

A resistance was quickly formed out of Guangzhou, with many people opposing the insane new acronyms that were being formed, but there was little that could be done. What remained of the PLA was cut into further chaos, and Guangzhou was defenceless by the end of January.

In essence, mainland China was split in two.

The Battle of Hong Kong would dictate the fate of the entirety of China. The backs of the resisting PLA was thrust against the wall, and finally foreign support had arrived.

A Coalition naval group was formed, with surface ships from all of East Asia coming to support the evacuation of what remained. However, their numbers remained in the single digits before the arrival of the US Navy, as domestic terrors such as monsters and recovery efforts tied down the majority of their armed forces.

Their mission was not to hold the city, as that was never possible, but to bring as many people out as they could, giving the Chinese a chance at retaking the mainland another day.

At this time, that seemed unlikely. The attackers had gained too much ground too quickly, and the defence of the city was paramount. Ordinance had to be directed to delay, not kill.

Helicopters buzzed over the waves, bringing ammunition and weapons to the defenders and returning with casualties. Coalition aircraft struggled to gain air supremacy, which was beginning to look impossible with the lack of Coalition Anti-Air weapons as opposed to the attackers, who had an advantage in both numbers and coverage.

The bleakness of the situation glared in the faces of Allied commanders, while IF, deployed to lead the attack, felt nothing but confidence.

* * *

The interior of the command hovercraft was spacious, with even the darkest corners glowing with a light blue glow. The center of the room was dominated by a massive holographic globe, a testament of Gamindstrian technological advancement.

The slick seats, computers and walls were coated in a dark purple, reflecting their allegiance to the Land of Purple Progress.

Tactical operation crews filled each seat, organizing troop movements and supervising ordinance delivery when needed. Others were on standby to micromanage their leader's orders, and some were ready to communicate with neighboring commanders if an order on a larger scale was delivered.

Needless to say, every Gamindustrian was focused on their task.

Commander IF stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at the command module.

Things were going smoothly. Their ground forces beat back the enemy infantry attempting to halt them in the mountains, and the unsabotaged train rails were helpful in moving her own infantry to the front.

The initial intrusions into the city were disastrous, with her elite reconnaissance teams being killed along the perimeter. This was a tremendous setback, as their loss crippled  
IF's ability to confidently take any initiative.

The main advance was spearheaded by an unguided rocket barrage, alongside heavy PPLA artillery strikes on suspected positions. Without recon, they could only do so much.

Unlike her Planeptune-trained and equipped combined arms division, the PPLA were still using Chinese weapons and were poorly trained. This made her consider using them as fodder, hoping to break into the city with waves of humans, but something inside her stirred at the thought.

Of course those men were not from Gamindustri, but they were under her command. Using her soldiers as fodder felt wrong, and she knew she'd have to find another way in.

As it turned out, the resisting Hong Kongers were overestimated. Lacking weapons, leaders and organization, a coordinated defense was nonexistent. IF used armored units to make a breakthrough, following with a coordinated infantry push into the city.

Unable to react to the attack, Kowloon's PLA defenders routed. All that remained on the mainland were stubborn pockets of resistance, leaving Hong Kong Island as the last stronghold of indigenous opposition to IF's conquest.

If she had naval units at her disposal, IF would have used them to blockade the city. Unfortunately, most of the PLAN was scuttled or sent to Japan to fall into Blanc's sphere of influence.

That left her with only one option: a frontal attack on a very defensible location.

With the tunnels connecting the cities being destroyed, IF felt that the best course of action would be to hold off on any sort of invasion, and instead shell it from afar.

This wouldn't work in the long run, and the enemy appeared to know it.

Huh?

IF's train of thought was abruptly cut off at the sight of a red dot appearing on screen. Coming in from the east, along the coastline, this new air group posed a threat to her artillery. They did appear to be on a course for one of her firebases, and that meant nothing but trouble.

"Hey!" The commander faced one of her Tactical Air Control Officers, who spun in her chair at the sound. "Report on that group, what have we got?"

"Umm…" The woman responded, clicking at her monitor and eating up data on her own screen. "Looks to be fighters, uh… F-16s… no, they're F-CK-1s. Taiwanese."

"I see…" IF mumbled, scoffing at the aircraft designation. Who would name a plane something so similar to a swear?

Regaining her dignity, IF crossed her arms. "What are they all the way out here? How did they even get there?"

"I'm not sure, Commander. Looks to me like they came in over the ocean, probably refueled mid-flight."

"Alright. Let's see where they're headed. Get me some of those Chinese stealth planes to stalk them. Do we have any in the area?"

"No, doesn't look like it." The officer replied, glancing at nearby air bases. "Last one's been missing from their hangar since yesterday, either sabotage or some warlord stealing from us."

"Okay, okay." IF snapped. "Shoot them down. Anything will do, just make sure they don't get close to our guns."

"On it!" The woman replied, eager to do her job. "We have a group of six Type 95 SPAAA nearby, I'll inform them of the change in ROE. Fire at will, yes?"

"Yeah, yeah." The Commander nodded with a sigh. "Just get it done."

With that said, the TAC Officer waved her hand over her screen, fingers dancing over letters and commands. IF frowned, the weight of the world building up inside her.

This mission was going to be successful. That she had no doubt. But, how costly would it turn out? Would Purple Heart be satisfied with her work? And would _she_ be proud of her own work?

The Wind Walker of Gamindustri shook her head, feelings swelling up inside her. There were too many unknowns and stressors at play, and she hated it.

* * *

 _I'm such an idiot._

Nathan Kiowa laid on his mattress with his feet dangling off the edge, hating himself.

 _What the fuck was I thinking? Ughhh…_

The darkening ceiling said nothing, and the boy covered his eyes with an arm. He shouldn't have ignored Vert. He shouldn't have thought he was going to die. He was so engrossed in what could happen _later_ that he didn't think of what should happen _now_.

He didn't want to get out of bed. He didn't want to have to face what he did, and the very idea of getting up felt painful. Depressing, almost.

After all, the bed didn't judge him. The bed was here for him, whether he felt big or small. No matter what he did, there was always somewhere to go. Somewhere for him to stay.

Funny. He almost felt the same way about Vert. But why 'almost'? Why not completely?

Deep down, that 'almost' felt like nothing. Maybe he really did like her, just like what Owen said. Deep down. Nathan pressed a hand into his chest, feeling his heartbeat. His heart ache.

But on the surface, all his feelings felt wrong. On the surface, when he was thinking, he knew that she had to just think of him as a friend. On the surface, using logic, he felt like so many things could go wrong. He could die. He could lose interest. These things never last, he thought.

He didn't want to think about what that entailed. What anything entailed. Too much thinking, he thought. Action, that's what he needed. Action.

The boy soldier shot up, an expression of determination plastered on his face. His toes tickled the floor, taunting him, teasing him to get up.

His hands felt the mattress, the blanket. It all felt so soft, so comforting. They spoke, reminding him that he could just lie back down.

But it was too late for that.

Nathan stood up, clenching his fists. With a shaky breath, he took off for the door, hand searching for it in the dark. Once he found it, he twisted. Hard.

The door clicked, and a beam of light stabbed at his eyes. The hallway was too well lit, unsettlingly so. Nathan inched into the hall, pupils adjusting to the light.

He blinked. Silence.

Vert must've left already. To her own room, wherever that might be.

Something died in Nathan's chest, something important.

He stood there for a moment, thinking when he didn't want to. He wanted someone to talk to. He wanted someone to listen to. He wanted it all so bad, he forgot selflessness and marched into the hall.

He wasn't about to let his life slip away.

Nathan marched down the corridor, past silent doors, restrooms, lights and artificial plants. The whole place felt artificial. Artificial and dead. Was… was this Lastation?

He kept walking, searching for something that just wasn't there. Gradually, ever so slowly, the realization dawned on him. It wasn't something he wanted. It wasn't something that felt good.

She had left him. She had abandoned him.

Those words repeated in his clouded head, his entire being unable to fathom it. No, he could understand it. He just didn't want to believe it.

Nathan stopped walking. His body felt tired, exhausted from a full day of movement and action. His arms and legs all felt heavy. Nathan remembered how nice the bed felt, how comforting it was.

If no one was out there for him, no one at all, at least he had himself.

Right?

And when the walk back, begun unconsciously and carried out without a second thought, grew tiring and sad, he wondered why he got out of bed at all.

It hurt.

A lot.

His head. His chest.

Nathan turned the last corner, knowing his room was down the hall. He wasn't sulking. He just didn't want to show anything. Didn't want to feel anything. And in doing so, he felt the worst he's ever felt. That's saying too much.

He approached his door, looking at his feet. His eyes were tired, his lips were quivering. He kept thinking, thinking, thinking so much that he forgot to look up.

Shadows. Shadows at his feet.

He looked up.

The Blonde stood with her hands interlocked, standing with her head down and facing the door. Her breathing was ragged, visible by the shaking of her chest.

"Vert…" He said without thinking. Action, he thought, had gotten the better of him.

The Goddess was torn out of her paranoia, refusing to smile once she saw his face. Something, something deep down felt wrong. Both of them. Something. Something. Something.

" _Vert, I, / Nathan, I,"_

A pause. They both willed the other to speak first, hoping that their words would satisfy their own selfish desires.

"I'm sorry." The boy spoke first, unwilling to lose his chance. He shivered, but it wasn't cold.

"I… I was… lost in thought."

Vert was silent, expecting more.

"I ignored you, thinking something so stupid that I let it get the better of me. I'm just sorry." Nathan sighed with a sad, sad frown. His arms fell to his sides, swinging lazily. "I made you worry."

He turned away, letting the CPU see his cheek.

"Don't be sorry, please." She urged. "I was assuming things, too. We shouldn't have."

"We shouldn't have." The boy let the words roll off his tongue. He felt lucky. So, so lucky to be able to say that in a way he never imagined. He felt so lucky that he could relate to someone. So lucky that there was someone at all.

"I won't be sorry, or anything like that," He looked at her in the eyes, and he saw them quiver. "If you do the same."

Leanbox's Goddess nodded. Slowly and methodically. "Okay."

"Be honest." He begged with his arms extended, rolling his lower lip up in fright. "Please."

"O-okay." Vert nodded again, this time rapidly and without thinking.

Nathan looked down, and he saw that they were holding hands. He was so engrossed in her eyes, that...

"Let's…"

"Let's sit down." She assered, regaining her composure with a hasty breath. "Inside."

Taking him by the hand, she led him into the room, making sure to close the door behind them. Seconds passed, and Nathan and Vert sat down on the edge of the bed.

The one from Earth looked up at the windows, thinking of Owen.

"I was afraid." He said suddenly, letting his mind roam wild. His eyes were closed as he spoke. "I'd lose you." He felt something stir as he said those words. "I was afraid you'd lose me."

Nathan turned his head down, eyes squeezing shut. Content, but careful. Scared, but at ease. Jittery, but calm.

He felt something on his chin, and he opened his eyes. Vert extended a finger forwards, pulling his head up. She was listening.

"I don't know." He finished, feeling a sigh escape his lips.

"You do know." She whispered.

He smiled, but just a little. Vert felt her heart skip a beat.

"I…" He started, not sure where to begin. Not sure what to say. Not sure, not sure, not sure. But he spoke. Heavy, heavy words, he thought.

"My mom is dead." He whimpered, feeling his body shake and roar. "I'm so, so alone." He looked into her eyes. He wanted to cry. "Everyone is gone, everything is gone. Not lost, taken. Like.. like the blink of an eye. An… and here I am, _here I am,_ talking to you. I've left so much behind. I've been here, helpless against the mother-fucking tsunami. Alone. And I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired, Vert. No more."

The boy reached down to his thigh.

"This gun." He stammered, choking. A hand brought out his pistol, the flag invisible in the dark. "I was going to have to use it tomorrow. I- I was going to use it, Vert!"

"Oh," She whined, face strained. A hand seamlessly reached forwards, palm over the gun's slide as she pushed it into the bed. "Oh, don't do that. Don't you do that."

"I'm sorry." Nathan grit his teeth. "I don't know what I was thinking. I'm such a _fucking_ idiot. Such a fucking, fucking idiot."

The gun was eased out of his grip, and the boy felt defeated. But at the same time, miraculously, a wave of relief washed over him. Why?

"Please don't let me die." He cried as Vert came forwards, pressing her body against his own. "Please don't."

"I'm here." She said, resting her neck against his shoulder. "Don't you ever forget that. I won't ever let you go."

"Oh," He lifted his arms up and around the woman he loved, feeling guilty. "What the hell."

He shivered there, within the warm embrace. They let it happen.

Vert broke the silence, finding words where none could be found.

"Since the first day I saw you," She thought of that first night, back on the streets of Planeptune. He hadn't seen her, but she was so intrigued, even then. Captivated by his mere presence there. "I was... mesmerized. Your story, the things you had to tell, the things you had to say, your home, too. If you were to go, I don't know who'd tell me about what you've done. Who'd give me a tour of Earth?"

"Oh, stop it."

"Then you helped 5pb, going out of your way. I was scared when I heard about it, I really was, and I didn't know why." Vert felt her own body shake. She was saying things, things she had never said before. "You're an amazing person, Nate. You don't have to be alone."

"You're just…" Nathan started, easing his tight grip on Vert. "There, there when I need you. I felt so lost the other day, right before that concert. I was so happy to have someone there, caring without thinking of yourself, and you… just stuck to my mind ever since then. I don't know what it is about you. I really can't put my finger on it." He shuddered, embarrassed. "I spent my time, all of it, extending myself outwards. The broadcast, the work, my whole life, really," He paused to breathe, feeling the moment. "Outwards. Now you come, and I can talk. It means so, so much to me. And... I don't know."

"Nate, you do know." She teased, feeling their hearts dance faster and faster. She moved her body away from him, letting each other see into one another's eyes. The warmth between them disappeared, but only for a moment.

 _...Fuck it._

Eyes, flash fire spark, arms, pull shove squeeze, chest, beating beating beating, feel, skin, hair, heart.

Lips.


	24. Anew

A street corner in New York City would typically house a corner store, be it a convenience store or restaurant, maybe even a hardware store. In the winter the blinds would be drawn, and a steady stream of darkened air could be seen towering from the rooftops, a sign of life in an urban maze.

The snow shook and stirred under the weight of two mortar rounds impacting the street in succession, causing chunks of the ice to fall off the edges of windows and the railings of fire escape stairs.

The street corner was lined with abandoned cars, some of which had been shattered by gunfire and stained black by explosions.

A firefight was singing a song of crashing drums.

" _Hey, fucking- adjust your fire! T-twenty meters north, you're going to fucking kill us!_ "

Located on a rooftop elsewhere in the city, a team of four shuffled in a makeshift mortar pit, handing eggplant-sized rounds to one another as fast as possible. Their faces were stained red from the cold, and their eyes squinted in the wind.

"Copy that, adjusting fire twenty meters north." A man said as clearly as possible, handing a mortar round to another man kneeling at the tube.

" _Four rounds, just shoot already!_ " The leader's radio crackled with sound, and the man at the tube dropped a round into the weapon.

With a loud thump and a burst of pressured air, the weapon fired. At the same time the second mortar fired at the same target.

"Shot, out!" The leader called into his microphone, hoping his voice would carry over the thumping of mortars and the whistling wind. With tensed knees, he handed another round to his partner.

A second round was fired from both guns, leaving behind nothing but a cloud of unsettled snow.

As an uneasy silence overcame the team of four, the leader stood up straight.

His back ached from a dozen sleepless nights, and the sores in his muscles were painful to bear.

The skyline of New York City extended past the horizon, and he could turn his head in any direction and see buildings. Monuments to human success, all of them crumbling and desecrated. Their sanctity, if there ever was any, was lost amongst a pile of hopes and dreams.

He lived in Queens, a section of the city hit hardest by shelling and air attack. It was the least defended part of the city, and the most abandoned before the fighting began. His family had been killed by a pack of fenrirs a month ago, leaving him alone in the apartment.

Over time, people left Queens- either to escape the city or because they had passed away. Even without monsters prowling the streets, the threat of an attack was everyone's minds.

With a post so close to home, the soldier was allowed to spend him time there, alone. It grew painful after a while, seeing his home abandoned and city become a shell of its former self.

He grew accustomed to it, though. And now he was here. Atop a building, shooting where his neighbors used to get pizza and catch up with friends.

The soldier sat, resting his hands on the ground beside him. Moments like this were few and far in between, and the rest was more than welcome. He closed his eyes, feeling the cold wrap around his cheeks.

" _..._ "

His eyes fluttered open as his radio sputtered. Someone was trying to get through on this frequency, but the signal wasn't cooperating.

His hands reached for his microphone, and he cupped it against his mouth with both hands.

" _-need a fire -ission! -nty rou- -gh explos- -n my location-"_

 _What?_

"Hey, repeat your last-" He started, only to get interrupted by incomprehensible shouting.

Noise, too loud and sharp to be distinguished, filled his ears as the person on the other end tried to get a message across.

" _She's here-_ "

* * *

" _Grizzly 2-1, 2-3, this is 2-2, we have engaged the enemy just east of Hard Rock Cafe, Times square! Contact with six Lowee Type 1 APCs, count one zero zero plus paratroopers with assault weapons and swords. We're about to get right fucked in a second._ "

" _2-2, 2-3, this is 2-1, solid copy, we're coming in from the east to assist._ "

" _2-1, 2-2, this is 2-3, moving to assist from the south. Be advised, we're down two men."_

" _2-2 copies all, out._ "

…

" _2-1, 2-3! 2-2 is down, I repeat, 2-2 is down! ATGMs at grid PU139208, fourth floor of building to your ten o'clock, right by the wide billboard! We're taking guided missile fire from that location and cannot proceed! Get you get fire on them, over?"_

" _2-3, 2-1, Negative, negative! Be advised, our Mk. 19 is down, I repeat, our Mk. 19 is down! Interrogative, since we're about to fucking die her-"_

 _ **...**_

" _2-1, this is 2-3, come in!"_

" _2-1, say something! Fucking hell… pull back!"_

* * *

" _All callsigns still in Manhattan! 3-1 Bravo just re-established contact with Broadway FAC, break, ritual break to Madison Square Park, but continue to delay the enemy in your sectors, out."_

* * *

" _3, 3-2, be advised, we have visual on enemy paratroopers at grid PU137209, we're low on ammo and have sustained major casualties. Uhh… seven zero foot mobiles and a column of five Lowee Type 1 APCs will be on top of us in less than 2 minutes. Break, enemy is unaware of our presence at this time. How copy? Over."_

" _Solid copy on all. 3-2 standby, I'm calling it in."_

" _Warhammer, this is 3 Bravo, stand by for fire mission…"_

* * *

" _Wolverine 1-2, this is Wolverine-2 Actual, gimmie a SITREP: how far are you from 2-3's position, over."_

" _2-Actual, 2-1! We're dug in by the rally point at Madison Square and we're taking light indirect fire from the North! 2-3 is about 600 meters to the north of us, over."_

" _1-2, can you link up with 2-3 from where you are? Over."_

" _NEGATIVE! NEGATIVE! -Jackson, get the 240 guns over to the right flank! Move, m-move! We got contact! T-they're rolling us with a platoon of Lowee Type 2 heavies, I can't deal- fuck! Request Broken Arrow! I repeat, Broken Arrow!"_

" _Roger that, solid copy on Broken Arrow. Major, it's been an honor, out."_

* * *

" _Viper-3 Actual, this is Viper Actual, give me a SITREP, over."_

" _Viper Actual! This is 3-Bravo Echo-2-Sierra! 3-Bravo Actual is KIA, I repea- - - is KIA! - - urrounded- I - - - en - - I repeat! - - - - -e down to three FUCKING men! How copy, over?"_

" _Solid copy 3-Bravo, be advised, I've Warhammer standing by, switch to TAC Freq. 179 and go to town, over."_

" _... F-f-fuck… roger that… - - -itching to 179, out."_

* * *

" _Raven-2 This is Raven 2-1, I have visual on enemy armor landing 2 clicks south of One World Trade Center, supported by infantry, APCs and attack hovercraft. How copy? Over."_

" _CONTACT LEFT CONTACT LE-"_

* * *

" _2-1 Alpha, 2-2 Alpha, one of Raven-2 Victors just took a hit! I repeat: one of Raven-2's Victors has been hit!"_

" _Raven-2! This is Alpha 2-1. What's your status? Over!"_

" _Alpha 2-1, this is Raven 2-1, we are taking heavy fire along the Hudson River. Break, 2-2 Echo's Victor is gone. They took a direct hit from a-"_

" _AMBUSH! RIGHT SIDE- CONTACT LEFT CONTAC- - - - - 2-3, RPG AT YOUR 3 O'CLOCK! TAKE THE MK. 19 TO COVER THAT SECTOR! HOLD THAT SECTOR! HOLD-!"_

" _Broadway, this is Alpha 2-1 Actual, our position is no longer tenable at this time! We're getting the FUCK out of that dock- All Alpha Victors, fall back for the MSR! Delta 4-1 is going on a Broken Arrow! Fall back for the MSR now! We are leaving!"_

* * *

" _Pinpoint 1 Alpha, this is Warhorse 5-1, checking in with you. Flight of two A-10s, holding area... Lima, Angels 10. 4 BLU-97s, 2000 rounds for this section. Ready for tasking, over."_

" _Roger Warhorse 5-1, I have Raven-2 on the ground requesting immediate CAS at grid PU136124. Break, push to IP Buick, how copy? Over."_

" _Solid copy. Map grid PU136124, pushing to IP Cadillac."_

…

" _Raven-2, you have Warhorse 5-1, flight of two A-10s pushing to IP Cadillac."_

" _... Raven copies all, out."_

…

" _Warhorse 5-1, this is Pinpoint 1, standby for information."_

" _Warhorse standing by."_

" _TOT 20, close-in fire support, non-standard, minus one to minus one-two, and plus four to plus two, gun line target zero-five-zero, I'm gonna talk you don to the target, how copy? Over."_

" _Solid copy on all, go ahead, over."_

" _North North-west of the Native American Museum, about 400 meters, there's the end of the Battery Park road. Call contact?"_

" _Contact."_

" _To the north of that road, about 200 meters, is a wide 4-way intersection. The first intersection. Call contact?"_

" _Contact."_

" _We're observing from position 100 meters west of the 9/11 memorial, upper floors of the World Trade Center Memorial building. Call contact?"_

" _Contact."_

" _Your target is a column of eight enemy Type 4 heavy tanks moving north from that previous intersection along that road. Be advised: major civies are packed into Trinity Church awaiting evac, wind is strong, towards the east."_

" _Warhorse has contact on all… we are passing IP Cadillac, rolling into heading 090."_

" _Roger that, bring the rain!"_

* * *

" _Warhorse off safe. Guns, guns, guns... Guns. Guns. Guns…"_

" _Dash-2 off safe, rolling in- There's something on your right! The fuck is that-"_

" _Break left, break left!"_

" _I can't see- I can't see- She's on my cockpit! Ejecting!"_

" _Fuck! Missile on my-"_

* * *

" _Broadway, this is Pinpoint-1. Warhorse 5-1: Flight of two A-10s is down.. I see only one chute deploying. BDA is 80 over 15, Trinity Church is taking HEAT+ rounds from Type 4s… It… doesn't look good where we are. How copy? Over."_

" _Pinpoint-1, this is Broadway, solid copy on all. We do not have any other close air support assets in the area at this time. Displace to a more secure location north of Murray street and await further instructions. Out."_

* * *

" _Alpha 1-2, Warhammer, we don't have enough shells remaining in that battery to provide effective supporting fire in your position! We are pulling out of Brooklyn in five mikes, out!"_

* * *

" _Mystic 2-1, dude, it's me- Central just gave the order to abandon all sites that are on Manhattan! Get your ass OUT OF THERE!"_

* * *

It's been an hour since Noire, in her HDD form, ascended above the streets of Lastation. It was an hour past midnight, and the roads were lit by street lights seen by no one but her.

Her arms hung at her sides as she drifted over the streets, feeling, no, knowing that her sister was somewhere in the city.

So close, yet so far.

 _What was she thinking?_

Did she really think she could find one person in an ocean of people, someone who didn't want to be found, someone who was long gone? What was she thinking, rubbing the sleepiness from her cyan eyes, hoping that things could get better? Maybe she was foolish, hoping that things would resolve once she put her mind to it.

The times had changed, and there was no going back. The times had changed, and the world she once knew and love, the world she hoped would stick around forever, was gone.

Poof, just like that, gone with the swipe of a sword and the stroke of a pen on paper, paper through dimensions, paper through sweat, toils and blood, blood and snow. Snow.

Noire looked up at the horizon, the dark horizon, and thought of fireflies.

This was her fault.

She did this.

She hated herself with the deepest, most guttural feeling imaginable.

She could have done more, she could have done something to save her world. If only she spoke to Uni, if only she talked things through with Purple Heart, if only she made her own decisions- ones not influenced under pain of death or disgrace.

 **It doesn't have to be this way**.

And for a moment, the Goddess of Lastation heard a voice. She slowed down, feeling herself crumble.

 **You're scared, and that's perfectly normal even if you don't want to admit it**.

For a moment, the Console Patron Unit of Lastation lie suspended in mid-air, thinking to herself that maybe she was going crazy. But then again, she wasn't crazy.

 **It's okay to ask for help. Getting help, help for what you desire most, that's perfectly normal.**

 _Who are you?_ Noire thought, teasing herself. She's not crazy.

 **A friend. Someone who can help you with what you need most**.

Maybe she'd humor her sleep depraved mind.

 **You want your sister? You want a strong nation? You want so many things, but they seem too daunting to be feasible.**

The Goddess nodded, feeling this to be more of a dream than reality. Like a haze, mist in the mind.

 **Will you accept my help, Noire? I can make all this, all those tasks you want done so much, all of them to be done with ease.**

 _I…_ Noire thought to herself. She was talking to her own mind now, wasn't she? But she wasn't crazy. Right?

 _Who are you?_ Noire thought, thinking this to be less of her own mind. This was real… this wasn't a hallucination. Someone was in her mind. Something was trying to do something.

 _Who are you!_ Noire thought with more and more vigor, feeling panicked. What was going on? Was she going crazy? Was there really someone in her mind? This couldn't be real.

But when she looked around, looked up at the buildings and the horizon, she saw lights and colors that couldn't be made up.

The voice stopped speaking.

It was gone.

Her mind was her own.

And she sighed, thinking it was over.

Hoping it was over.

* * *

One hour. The words repeat in my head, time and time again.

In the bedroom's tiny bathroom, I scrutinize my reflection.

I breathe, and my thin blue jacket slowly moves up and down. It presses against a snug set of body armor hidden beneath it, making it a bit hard to breathe.

I place my hands on the edge of the sink, leaning further into the mirror. I open my mouth, checking my teeth with one eye open, then let my head sag down.

It's hard to believe that only one hour separates the present calm and the beginning of the operation, but then again, everything is hard to believe.

I try not to think about it when I hear a gentle rap at the door.

"Nate!" It's Vert. She beckons me with ease, and a bit of me brightens up at the sound. "You've been in there for a while now… is everything alright?"

"Yeah," I push myself off the sink, stretching myself backwards. "Just needed to splash some water on my face."

I hear her step back from the door, and I exit the bathroom. With one hand still on the edge of the door, I flick off the lights.

"You look fine." She teases, folding her hands in front of her.

She looks beautiful, despite recently waking up. Dressed in her typical green dress, I'm not really sure how she does it. Could it be magic? Some special shampoo? One can only speculate, and I feel pains in my chest when I remember how little time we have left. If only I could do more, if only we could spend more time together, if only the situation were different.

"Thanks." I look away, a little embarrassed. "Just trying to get my head around some stuff. This doesn't feel all that real, at least not yet."

Her face lights up, and she pokes me above my belly button. I can't feel anything aside from the welcome pressure due to the armor, however. I wished this moment would last forever.

"You'll do fine." She nods, and I could swear her blue eyes sparkled in the artificial lighting. "I've prepared for innumerable raids in the past, so trust me when I make that claim."

I hold my hands up, mocking surrender. "You don't to say stuff like that! I already trust you enough. Really."

"Really?" She smirks, stepping towards the front door. Her arms are crossed and her expression makes me feel goofy and dumb. "Well, let it be known that I will never trust anyone with my 4GO password. In fact," She pauses, straightening her hair with her hands. "Some things I will carry with me to my grave, if I ever have one."

"So…" I grin, fiddling with the base of my jacket. I'm not sure what 4GO is, but it must be something really important to her. "What's the point you're trying to make?"

She says nothing until she pulls open the door. "You'll see." She steps out, taunting me with those eyes. "Tomorrow."

"I might not even be back here by tomorrow." I sigh, walking into the hall.

"The next day, then." She points back into the room. "You wouldn't want to forget all that, would you?"

"Oh!" I jump back, jogging over the the dresser and swiping a tiny paper bag off the top. "Almost forgot…"

She closes the door behind me, and we start walking towards the balcony. It's not that far, and idle conversation comes easy. It's nice to have a moment where there's nothing going on, when everything seems alright.

The paper bag is heavier than I'd expect, and when I look into it I spot an earpiece and a watch. I'm not sure what that'll do for me, but I'll take it by ear.

As near the destination, I plug the earpiece into my right ear. It feels a little tight, making me fear that it'll fall out under stress. With a second hand I roll up my sleeve, wrapping the watch around my left wrist.

I'm expecting it to do something crazy futuristic and technical, but it just looks like a normal watch.

"I don't think that does anything." Vert confirms my suspicions, gesturing at the watch. "I know that in games, sometimes gadgets have many utilities… but I'm certain that that watch only tells time."

"I mean, it's still a gift." I say, trying to give Noire more credit.

"I think she misplaced things." The CPU smiles, thinking back. "She tends to do that when she tries to do everything at once."

"You know her more than I do, so I wouldn't know."

As we enter Noire's office, I get a feeling of humility at the spaciousness of the room. The bookshelves on both sides of the rug-covered path make me feel small. At the other end of the path, past Noire's desk and Vert's shoulders, is the entrance to the balcony.

She pushes through to the balcony, holding open the door for me. Yawning, I follow the CPU outside.

"I hope you had enough sleep." She states, stepping back. "I've gone many sleepless nights, so my body is used to nights like this."

"Sleepless nights…" I repeat. I know that she's about to transform, something that makes me a bit anxious. I place the paper bag at my feet as she folds her arms, a playful expression on her lips.

"I am a CPU. I have busy nights."

Vert acts as if she is trying to defend herself, but I didn't accuse her of anything.

"Yeah, I don't doubt it." I nod, covering my eyes with my hands.

That's her cue, and lines of light break through the cracks of my fingers.

Seconds later, she reappears as a whole new person.

Like a second sun, her eyes emit a glow that seems too beautiful to be real. Green hair, too heavenly to be from a mere mortal, draws down from her sides and towards the ground in a single spiky ponytail.

There's no humor in those eyes. It's like a switch had been flipped, a gun fired, curtains drawn.

With her arms crossed and eyes bearing down on my own, I don't feel very safe anymore. The sounds, lights and colors of a slowly rising Lastation lines the horizon. All around me, the vastness of this world holds me hostage.

"I'd hope you're ready," Green Heart states, stepping closer. She's going to pick me up! "But we don't have the pleasure for time and preparation."

I breathe, feeling my body tense up.

"Figures." I nod. I think I'm ready.

"Let's not pretend that this is some game." She finishes, and I close my eyes.

My whole being taken, weightless, and I scream.

* * *

 **This chapter was on the shorter end but I wanted to get this out of the way so the rest would come easy. Not only that, but I dabbled in radio communication as a means to tell a story, might not do that again if it was confusing.**

 **I created this entire series with the idea of thought in mind, not always action. Do you feel this to be true?**

 **If you have any ideas on ways to improve storytelling, or if you have thoughts on side plots you want to know more about, do leave a review! I'm writing as I want to write, which might not scratch that one particular itch you have.**

 **Things are going to get to where they need to be, eventually- no need to rush things. After all, the journey is what makes a world.**

 **Thanks for reading, and let's hope for faster updates!**


	25. Connections

"What do you have to be sorry about?"

Compa almost whispered those words, her cautious eyes reflecting the image of her bedroom's holographic monitor. With curtains drawn and only one lamp on, the room flickered in the light of the screen.

IF's face lie limp on the other end of the call, rubbing the back of her head. Compa could tell that whatever that was going on in Iffy's mind meant a lot to her, more than what she was letting on. And since they were best friends, IF would tell her, right? That's what friends did. Share stories and problems. They were there for each other.

At the very least, Compa was indebted to her friend for getting her out of the military- a favor made out of friendship. IF didn't have to, as Compa was fine out there, but Iffy must've felt awful when Compa got captured. Or maybe she didn't want to see her friend in danger. IF never told Compa why, and she didn't expect to know.

Upon her rescue, IF had immediately called, showing how dedicated she was to Compa's safety. Just remembering that made the cream-haired girl feel a little warm and fuzzy inside, and for some reason she wanted to give Iffy a big hug.

"..."

The hum of Iffy's hovercraft set the backdrop for the call, it's dull engine a familiar sound to the now-civilian. After looking away from the screen for a bit, IF sighed. "I don't know, Compa."

"Iffy, what do you mean, you don't know?" She leaned in towards the screen, giving IF her full attention.

"I mean that I'm confused, okay? It's been bugging me since I first got here." The former guild member did a little stretch with her shoulders, unable to sit still. "There's a lot of confidential stuff in between now and then, and a lot of stuff that the censors wouldn't approve of me telling you. So, I'd tell you if I could. But I can't."

Compa's heart tugged at those words. Nothing was worse than wanting to let your feelings out like a waterfall, only for something out of your control to dam it all inside.

"I understand." Compa gave her friend a shallow smile, sending the impression that there was still reason to be happy with so much on her mind.

And IF believed it, despite the hole gnawing in her mind. So she smiled back, and surprisingly forgot why she was sorry.

"Can you believe it?" IF exclaimed, adjusting herself in her seat. "I've been out here for… two months now? Yeah, two months."

"It's been a long time since we got ice cream, Iffy-chan!" Compa spoke with enthusiasm, her smile widening. "I miss ice cream with Iffy and Nep-Nep! Can you come back soon?"

IF couldn't hold back a smile, Seeing something so pure that it began to thaw that hole in her mind, and it was the most amazing feeling she'd ever felt.

"Compa, I was there for the parade… but I get what you mean."

"Does that mean you'll come back soon?"

"No," IF continued, half laughing. "That means it could be a while before we see each other again."

"Oh… well that's not good at all."

"Yeah, Compa." She sighed, resigned. "It's not."

There was a moment of silence, and both girls looked down. For a second, IF felt like things were just like they were before Neptune changed. But she remembered that Neptune did change, and looked around herself.

IF's personal room in the hovercraft was silent and radiated a dull purple because of the walls. The lack of furniture helped highlight how it wasn't a big room, but since no one else really had a room, IF couldn't complain.

Looking back at the screen, Compa and IF opened their mouths to speak, but no one spoke. It would've been rude to both talk over one another, right?

And after another awkward silence, Compa gathered the courage to ask something that anyone would ask a faraway friend.

"Iffy-Chan, where are you right now?"

After hearing that so innocently, IF almost replied immediately. Catching herself at the last second, she remembered that these cross-dimensional channels were monitored.

"I'm… I'm not where we were earlier. This is a whole new area, somewhere with amazing mountains, awe inspiring forests and jungles with some of the most amazing plants and animals you've ever seen. Once I woke up on the side of a mountain, in this camp. And between the grooves of these tower-like cliffs, these cliffs that were like mountain-sized pillars, this world's sun filtered through the tree canopy and I was in awe of how far you could see."

IF paused, lost in reminiscing. "And it was just… amazing… amazing how the sun would make a set of rain covered leaves sparkle, but the trees next to it would still be in the shadow of one of the mountains, and you could see such a contrast of light over the world around you."

IF sighed, and Compa placed a hand on her cheek.

"Wow… that does sound amazing. Pillar mountains… I can't imagine something like that."

"I took pictures," IF spoke quickly, encouraged by Compa's enthusiasm. "And I can't wait to show you them."

"You said you wanted to explore the whole new world, the whole thing." Compa reiterated, looking into IF's eyes.

"It's hard to believe that I'd get to be shown the whole world, even though it'll be a long while before we visit other areas. We're almost done here, saving this part of the world, but when we're done, I can't wait to keep going."

"You can't?"

IF found Compa's sudden question to be more surprising than she could ever have imagined.

She started off hating Purple Heart. How things had changed for the worse and how she didn't have a say in anything.

But now that she said something like that, to be so excited to 'save this world'... was she letting the propaganda get to her head?

The people were so much more humane, more respectable, more… human than she could ever have anticipated. It went against all the briefings and informational pamphlets. Everything she was told was wrong. Right?

But the problem was, now that she was planted in this command position, those were just words. She could say, 'the people of Earth are human', but she didn't _feel it_. Not anymore.

For all she knew, those words were something she made up. Those were something she said to justify hating herself when, in reality, what everyone was led to believe was founded in fact. The people of Earth were not human, as she was told, and she was not proven otherwise- all those thoughts from before might have been a lie she made up.

The Earth people she met… they were just as bad as she thought they were. There was Owen, the bastard child. Never had an ounce of humanity in him. Nothing civilized about him, or the others.

Animals who would rather die than enjoy life. They would rather die than accept the freedom and prosperity that Gamindustri would bring with them.

Real freedom was nothing like the chains of oppression that these Earth people suffered under. All the things that they were learning about their world matched what Purple Heart preached. Almost exactly. And that was all true, even if she didn't see it for herself, because everyone believed it.

So much was wrong with their society... why didn't they realize how the common people wouldn't rule themselves? A strong leader is needed.

Like Purple Heart.

Even if she disagreed with the CPU to start… she was right.

There's no reason for her government to lie. No reason for Purple Heart to lie. No reason for what she was told to not be the truth. Right?

IF sighed, telling herself she'd have to run through her mind before coming to conclusions.

And with some more idle conversation and an exchange of goodbyes, the call ended.

And the rooms were silent.

Compa got up, feeling a little lonely, and went to turn on her TV. The nursing textbooks could wait for later.

IF sat in her chair a little longer, feeling a little lonely. In her shadow ridden room, IF browsed the internet for a handful of minutes, then shut everything down.

Tomorrow would bring more fighting.

IF frowned at the very word- but that was it.

* * *

 **It has been... some time since the last update, and that's not so cool.**

 **But things are happening now that summer's coming around, I'm happy to get back into writing... until I enlist...**

 **This is a sort of mini-update to help get myself back into the thick of things, kinda as a sort of refresher for me, and I'm glad to have a ton of ideas brewing again.**

 **Thanks for sticking along, and thanks so, so much for dropping reviews and continuing to fav and follow- it really helps to motivate! I read every single one of them, and I'm really happy to know that people are still interested, despite it being a long time since the last update.**

 **See you in the next, full length chapter!**


	26. Omake 255

At first, it was quiet. Soundless, still, bodiless and void.

You could tell by the mist in the air and the chill in your lungs that it had to be early in the morning. Each breath was a cloud before your sleepless eyes, the bags beneath them prevalent in betraying a dozen sleepless nights.

Laying down, your goosebump-laden skin settled firm from the cold.

This was a building, you thought to yourself as you struggled to your feet. Wooden walls with a peeling green hue, windows smashed out long ago, furniture dusty, collapsing and aged.

A breeze ran in through a massive hole in the roof. A bomb must've taken this section off. Wooden debris, with the occasional ceiling tile thrown in, lie scattered at your feet.

The hole revealed a cloudy sky, the dark grey permeating with the telltale signs of an impending downfall. You could smell it, too. Petrichor.

With another breeze whistling through the shattered windows, you stumbled forwards in search of… something.

You desperately, tragically needed something. No doubts there. After all, rising from the ruins of a forgotten house leaves much to be desired.

But there was so, so much to need.

Warmth was a necessity.

In this chill, it was only a matter of time before sickness would set in. On top of a dull bruising in the thighs and buttocks, more ailments were the last thing you needed.

By extension, shelter would be a plus.

This ruined structure would leave you open to the elements, and with rain coming, there are no doubts that you'd be freezing wet in seconds.

Information would be critical.

Where even where you? Last you remembered… strange. What were you doing last? Where is this? It appeared to be the suburbs, but this looked nothing like it should have.

You shook your head, ridding yourself of the anxieties swelling up in your chest. You'd take it one step at a time- that was the best way to get things done, after all.

Wandering further into the building, you passed through a narrow, dimly lit hallway with old photo frames lining the walls. With cracks in the glass, you pressed forwards.

The floorboards creaked and sank under your weight as you entered a kitchen. Or what used to be a kitchen.

The room's floor tiles were cracking from an ever widening blast hole in the wall, debris of furniture, old countertops and glass scattered both inside and out.

A light hanging from the ceiling dangled in the wind, swaying with a clinking noise as pieces of metal and glass clicked against each other. Like a picture, you thought to yourself as you wandered further.

With another tenacious step forwards, the silence broke with a knock to your right, as if someone had tried to knock on the door. The firm, hollow rap stole your eyes in an instant.

With a goofy grin slapped on his face, a tall man that you swore you would have seen earlier looked you in the eyes.

Leaning against the wall, he had the demeanor of a delinquent. A rustic jacket lie tied to his waist at the sleeves, matching a dirty pair of jeans that looked a size too large.

With a red button-up shirt, the man looked as though he were straight out of some farm out on the Midwest.

He jut up his eyebrows with an aura of friendliness, hoping to dissuade you from running.

"Hey."

He spoke slowly, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"It's been a while."

You said nothing as you pivoted towards the man, thinking to yourself as you analyzed his words.

"A long while," he sighed, standing upright to fix his posture. "Look, I'm not asking for your forgiveness, although we need plenty more of that in this world."

He looked you up and down, seeing how worse for wear you looked.

"I'll skip the introduction." he affirmed, his fingers intertwined as if he wanted to hide something. Looking past your eyes, he continued. "I don't know if you remember me. I talked to you a while back, a long while actually…"

Trailing off, his reminiscing eyes wandered before snapping to attention.

"Just- you might remember that I was collecting stories. People's lives, people's experiences, that kind of stuff. And as much as I'd like hate to admit it, I'm down to my last pen."

He pat at his breast pocket, drawing attention to an old plastic pen clipped to his shirt.

"So this isn't going to work. For now, at least."

The man in the red shirt sighed, looking down as if your face was too unbearing to look at. An arm lie on the back of his neck as he waded through the debris, towards the big hole in the wall.

"I hope you understand, I'm not going anywhere." he paused, looking outside. You could hear a few droplets splashing into slowly boiling puddles of crisp rainwater. "No one is. Just… our story is taking a detour. At the very least until I can get myself another pen."

He halfheartedly chuckled, hoping you would laugh along as well. Staring into the clouds, he held back the desire to catch some drops on his tongue like a child.

You noticed him waving you forwards, and it wasn't long before you found yourself at the mouth of the blast hole. The smell of petrichor flooded the air, and the grin on the man's face was palpable.

The rain washed over the windows and walls, the pots and pans, wood and wallpaper, people and among the most impressionable of enemies that made you wonder how long it would take for them to realize their wrongdoings and go back, back to normal.

But you too looked up into the clouds and knew that there was no going back to normal. This was the new normal, and with the realization came a sense of ease. It wasn't easy to pick up at first, but there was solace in knowing this wasn't the end. It was never the end.

The first shots rang out far to the east, and you couldn't help but flinch at first. Like the rain, what first came down as a torrent was heard in a chorus of droves.

The man eased back inside, keeping a hand on the edge of the hole. "You hear that? They're clearing out the neighborhood. House by house."

You looked down the street and saw nothing but memories you wouldn't dare to recuperate. And the man leapt outside, feet sinking into the mud.

"No need to run now." he called to you, walking to the road without looking back once. "Rest easy knowing they're not looking for people like you. Here in Planeptune, dissidents don't hide. Not anymore."

The rain was deafening.

As he wandered into the water you saw a spectre treading the mist like a kite, delving deeper and deeper into the caverns of the fairytale land that, in another life, you would have called home.

And you too found yourself at the mercy of the omnipotent rain, apotheosis dead at your feet.

* * *

 **If it wasn't easy to pick up, I'm not going to lie anymore and just say outright that I'm putting Hearts and Minds on hold for now.**

 **It's a shame that I haven't gotten to that full length chapter yet, which is one of the many things I've been wanting to do in my writing career at the moment.**

 **There's a good chance that, with time and a good amount of hope, the next updates will come sooner than later. I happen to be in a downward trend of _drive_ for H &M at the moment, and see a lot more to be improved upon in terms of writing and such.**

 **However, do not despair! All is not lost: the Fanfiction archive is bounding with stories, and I see myself writing one or two others on my path to H &M bliss. Which, at the moment, is but a distant utopia. I highly recommend you keep your eyes peeled for other stories in the meantime, both my own and from other talented individuals, as we await further news.**

 **As always, it's my pleasure to thank you for keeping up thus far, PMing me and bring a smile to my own face, and most importantly, for reading. You are what drives the universe at this moment, no matter how corny that may sound.**

 **Take care, and I am more than happy to see you around.**


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